Drops in the Ocean, 100 random ramblings in Middle Earth
by EluredandElurin
Summary: 100 Lord of the Rings drabbles from prompts, with some material from Tolkien's other works. I'll do the prompts in order, as given, though I might not update frequently. Random characters will be used to fit the prompts as I see fit. Disclaimer: I don't own anything Tolkien, else I'd probably be some old dude named Christopher
1. Fire

**Fire:**

Pippin, proud for remembering the word, could feel himself slowly metamorphotating. There was something burning through him, cleansing him until he was no hobbit anymore. No, he was-

"What's that, Pippin?" Frodo asked. Pippin looked up from his feet, startled.

"Whaddaya mean?" Frodo stared at him funny.

"What did you just say?" Sam prompted. Pippin felt slightly embarrassed, a hint of a blush creeping his cheeks. He hadn't said it out loud, had he?

"Something, then hobbit, I think," Frodo put in, distracting Pippin.

"Firehobbit," Merry said. He had heard his best friend. "Wha's that supposed to mean, Pip?" A grin stole onto Pippin's face.

"Oh, just that I'm no proper hobbit anymore, what with no breakfast and all this walking. Next you know, I'll be skinny! That would be weird. And then, just as long as I'm being skinny, I might as well be tall."

"That it the most idiotic thing I have ever heard in my life." Pippin wasn't listening to his friend, but caught a red apple that had been thrown over his shoulder.

"Eat then, Master Firehobbit," Aragorn said, eyes twinkling in a normally grave face. Pippin sunk his teeth into the apple with great gusto, waggling his eyebrows at Merry.

 **This is a(probably bad) attempt at humor and writing, but when I thought of fire, I thought of this. This story is part of the 100 drabble challenge, began by NirCele(as far as I know). You should go take a look at her profile page, maybe join the challenge too.**


	2. Pet

**Pet**

Arwen sprinted into her father's throne room, fair little face tear-stained. Glorfindel, Erestor and the scary captain of the guard(Arwen didn't bother to learn his name) all turned to look at her simultaneously.

Elrond gave them a small smile, then turned to his daughter. "What is it, Arwen?" How Elrond missed his wife. She always seemed to know what to do with the twins and Arwen intuitively.

"Anna is missing," Arwen wailed. "Dan and Ro won't help me look, 'cause they're too busy laughing."

None of the elves in Rivendell would have minded the vicious "pet" getting lost. But they knew, too, that Elladan and Elrohir laughing was never a good sign. Elrond stood to scoop his daughter up, the two of them going quietly to all of the twins' haunts. Finally, the father and daughter found the twin troublemakers in some trees near the stables. Literally in the trees.

"What are you two doing?" Elrond demanded of his eldest children. The corners of his mouth were twitching upwards, the only sign of amusement.

"Well, um, Ada. We were trying to set Anna free. She looked lonely. Besides, she can be a gift unto the mice running about." Elladan nodded vigorously, agreeing with his twin.

"Then where-" Arwen cut her father of with a shriek of joy, the little elleth running to drape her previously lost pet snake over her shoulders. Her two brothers relaxed, slipping sheepishly out of their trees.

 **Dunno if this is supposed to be funny or just really sort of fluffy? Anyways, thanks to NirCele and nyx thranduilion for reviewing!**


	3. Let's Play a Game

It was late, and the line of Gondorians finally fit in the throne room. They came once a week to seek advice on disputes. Two days of Aragorn's too short week were spent on squabbling people. When Elessar looked up to the last person, he saw a familiar boy.

"Eldarion, what are you doing here?"

"I was bored, but Silmariën and Ivriniel wouldn't play with me. Mama is busy with something or other and the other boys always let me win! But you're the king, so you won't. Right?" Aragorn smiled at the torrent of words that poured from his son's mouth.

"I suppose so. What do you wish to do, then?" Eldarion wrinkled his forehead, apparently deep in thought.

"How about that game with lots of pieces and a board with squares on it?"

"It's called chess. Mostly older children play it, but I can teach you." The little king-to-be was flustered at the speed with which his father beat him. But each night, Aragorn and Eldarion played chess together, accompanied by a merry fire and serious conversation. A father and son; a king and his heir.

 **Thanks to** **nyx thranduilion** **(sorry for misspelling your name :-/) and Everleigh Bain for reviewing. I love comments, even if they are criticism(I think…?) Also, special shout-out to** **Lady Lindariel** **, who followed** ** _and_** **favorited. The fantastic** **NirCele** **and** **nyx thranduilion** **both followed. Aaaand** **Akia Calene** **and** **Lady Lindariel** **added me to their awesome C2's.**

 **Whew, that was long. And disjointed. Oh, and I just named Eldarion's sisters after other characters 'cause I'm horrible at coming up with real names.**


	4. Sunrise

Galadriel brushed her daughter's golden hair rhythmically. The elleth was beginning to nod off when she spoke. "What was sunrise like, in the West?"

"Sunrise." Galadriel thought of her brothers, family and friends who she had known were happy before the first Kinslaying. Then she thought back to the stories that the Vanyar had told of Valinor and spoke. "When the sun rose, the trees would sort of shine in gold and silver. The green was softened into a sweet, young color. The birds would sing, more liquid and sweet than anything here. Their song was joy and ecstasy in a new day. The sky would blaze in gold, pink and blue, rich and pure. But you know what? I think a new day is more beautiful here. Bittersweet, that all the light must penetrate this darkness. But when it shows through, it is so much more precious."

"Whatever you say, Naneth," Celebrían said dubiously. "Still, why did you ever leave? Why didn't you return?"

"I was young, defiant even, back then. It was so many years ago. Now I protect Lothlórien from the shadows."

"I thought it was gone! The Valar came and the Vanyar and they got rid of Morgoth!"

Galadriel smiled slightly. "There is more evil than one being in Middle earth. But it will not come for many years, if it's wise."

"'Cause you're here, right?"

"Not only me." Celebrían frowned, but didn't argue. Together, she and Galadriel went down to breakfast.

 **Thank you to** **Lady Lindariel** **for reviewing three times o_O! Anyways, I never really know about dates. Just excuse me for anything wrong. Or better yet, review and tell me. Yeah, that sounds really... desperate. Doesn't it?**


	5. I am still here

Faramir rubbed his eyes, trying to make his eyes focus on the column of numbers before him. He wrote in a couple of notes, then his eyes began to droop closed. A burst of irrational terror woke him, and he shook his head vigorously. Tediously, the Lord of Ithilien worked his way through the whole page, and the next. And the next.

When he had finished that assignment, there was no work left to do. He couldn't put off sleep any longer.

Cursing the winding corridors, Faramir finally found his chambers. He lay down, and began to drift off almost immediately. With sleep came the all-too-familiar dream.

Over and over, the man watched the disapproval in his father's eyes and the way Denethor's eyes lit up when he saw Boromir. And lastly came the fire, the fire that could have been. It was always with a delirious, fevered perception of everything. It seared an image of it's light on his eyelids, and burned it's heat into his skin-

"Wake up, my prince," a soft voice called. Faramir opened his eyes to smile groggily at Éowyn. "I am here. I am still here. I will always be here for you." He relaxed and returned to sleep, a deep and dreamless sleep.

 **Thank you** **nyx thranduilion** **for reviewing! I didn't mean that you were criticizing my writing, by the way. I meant people who read this cackling evilly and thinking about how horrible this is should put their opinions in too. That's all. :-P. And I know people are reading this(at least somewhat) because there were at least a hundred views last I check. Join the review revolution! Just because I want you to review my story, but still...**


	6. Snow

**I wrote this for** **NirCele** **, who started this amazing(and somewhat addictive) 100 drabble challenge and was the first to review my story!**

When Glorfindel stepped onto Middle-earth for the first time since slaying the Balrog, he half expected it to be a fair and wondrous place and he half expected it to have fallen into ruin. But somehow, his first impression was a bit of both. Snow was falling placidly, dallying on its way down from the heavens. The Grey Havens were dark and peaceful, blanketed in an undisturbed sheet of white. But the cold bit through his thin clothing, and the fragile snowflakes melted onto it.

Water from the sky: Ulmo and Manwë working to gather to refresh the earth.

The angry and malicious cold: Melkor attempting to break the beauty of Arda

Well, Middle-earth is just that, Glorfindel reflected, in the middle. How could I have ever forgotten that? And then the elf grinned.

Super awesome golden-haired kick-orc elf was back. He didn't actually think that, but it's a close enough translation.

 **Anywho, hope you liked that. I'm planning to write a bit for** **nyx thranduilion** **,** **Lady Lindariel** **and** **Everleigh Bain** **each, since they are such amazing review-ers. And much better at writing than me. Just saying. (P.S. Thanks** **nyx** **and** **Everleigh** **for reviewing!)**


	7. Friends forever

**This is for Everleigh Bain! She's got some amazing stories, most of them centered around the Dúnedain. Of course, I realize that her writing is much realistic than mine, but I try...**

Lydia watched in dismay as she watched her grandfather ride away, wishing that she could go with him. Her mother put an arm around her shoulders. "He'll be okay."

"Yeah? How do you know that? I want to go! I could, you know. I'm old enough." Lydia wrenched away, tearing into the surrounding forest.

When the day grew cold and dark, Lydia couldn't overcome her pride and return home. That was how a certain ranger chieftain ended up with a Dúnedain girl in his hut.

"You're Hal's granddaughter, aren't you? I've heard that your mother is very worried."

"She's always worried, ever since Da went off and got himself killed.

"Of course, blame the dead. Anyways, how about I tell you a short tale? Good." The man didn't wait for her reply before continuing on. "I was young, maybe twenty or so, and full of fiery pride. I wanted to explore all of Middle earth and didn't need any help. No, not I. I stumbled across a dark forest and went straight into that. Forgetting whispers of the forest of Mirkwood.

"Well, I was definitely surprised that I couldn't get through the forest in a couple of days. I began to have to ration food and water. Eventually I gave up and say to contemplate the foolishness of my actions. And how very hungry I was. An elven prince found me, half delirious. He brought me into his father's halls. As he nursed me back to health, we grew to be best friends. Of course, Legolas enjoys teasing me about my pride."

"What's that even supposed to mean?" Lydia demanded. "It's a bit good and a bit bad, both from the same situation."

"You think long and hard on that, child. You will find that some tales may be interpreted however you might wish."

"Yessir, thank you sir." Lydia frowned, obviously trying to find her own complicated meaning from the short story.

 **I got the names from Brotherband Chronicles. Because, as I've said, I am awful at coming up with names.**


	8. Dreams and Fantasies

**To Lady Lindariel, since your profile picture is Elrond. :-)**

Elrond and Elros lay outside, looking up at the stars. "Look, the Valacirca! Sickle of the Gods." Elros proceeded to name off the seven stars with a grin on his face.

"Wouldn't you just like to see Valinor one day? To live close to it would be so amazing."

"Nah, when I grow up I want to be a great healer and really wise like Turgon."

Eleond frowned at his brother. "I wouldn't mind being king like him, wise or not. Healing is too- boring. If not a king, I want to be a great adventurer and sail the seas."

The twin Peredhil ran together, away from the chaos, frightened at the screams and fire and bloodshed. They found themselves in a cave they had played in, hidden behind a gentle waterfall.

"Stay back here," Elrond cautioned. "Someone might find us." Elros didn't seem to hear, seemingly enthralled by the reflections that the water threw onto the walls.

So Maglor and Maedhros found them. From the weary sons of Fëanor, Elrond learned of peace and beauty and wisdom and pain. Elros, however, marveled at the great tales of men and kings. Elrond grew into the person that his brother had wanted to be when they were four. Elros became the great king. Elrond chose to be as his Elven kin, out of love for them that had fostered him. Elros chose to be as his Edain kin, out of reverence for Tuor, Huor and Hurín.

The twin Peredhil parted in grief and in love, for they knew that could part them forever, when it came.

 **Thank you nyx and Everleigh, for reviewing! And Everleigh for following. :-). I love to read reviews, please REVIEW**


	9. Arrow, The Nature of Evil

**This chapter is to nyx thranduilion, who has faithfully read and reviewed many(if not all) of the chapters of this story. It sort of went a bit overboard, so I used two prompts. :-)**

Legolas squinted at the target in dismay. "I can't hit that! Naneth, I think I'm too short." His mother laughed. She handed him and arrow and helped the little prince to position his arrow properly.

"Breathe in, breathe out, shoot," she chanted, her son following her directions. He jumped up and down with glee.

"I hit the target! Did you see that?" The Prince of Mirkwood threw his arms around his mother, grinning.

Legolas drew back three arrows, angling each toward a different target. Breathe in, breathe out, shoot, he thought. The arrows thudded deeply into their targets. The elf wrenched each one out, then shot again. And again. He only stopped when the sun had sunk below the horizon.

He could still remember her voice from just days ago, the light in her eyes. Now, she was worse than gone to him. As he returned to his father's caverns, he sighed at the faint and grating screams echoing from far away.

* * *

"Well, you've got to let me do something! The shadow is coming, yet you remain aloof and alone. What happens when you're the only king left to a kingdom, Thranduil?"

"Where are you going- Wait, Laithen!" But she had gone. Thranduil sighed inwardly, guessing that his wife would cool off in time. She often plagued him about his cold demeanor toward other lands. She would return. So the Elvenking went down to dine with his son.

"Father," Legolas greeted, stiff as usual. The two ate silently, terse and uncomfortable. Finally, Thranduil rose, his son following suit.

When morning came, Laithen was still absent. Thranduil summoned his counsellors, a knot of fear rising. "Have you seen Laithen?" A sleepy elf jumped at his sharp tone, and a couple looked bored. But many people had loved the gentle queen and were concerned as well.

Before long, Thranduil had found a group of ten of his greatest warriors and two trackers. Before setting of, he counted them and found thirteen.

"Legolas, stay here."

"If Naneth is in danger, I will go to her."

"You will remain here." There was true steel in the king's voice, and his son obeyed reluctantly. The group of twelve rode off, leaving a forlorn and worried elf behind.

"The tracks lead here?" The "here" in question was an enormous mountain that looked as if it endeavored to reach past the sky. Strange shadows danced along its surface, and foul laughter echoed within. The trackers nodded, quailing at their king's sharp glare. "Then we shall-". 4 enormous orcs dragged a complaining figure from the depths of the mountain.

"Laithen," Thranduil began, "I-"

"He knows my name, does he? Well, I know an orc when I see one." The orcs cackled uneasily, sprinting back into the mountain. Laithen launched herself at Thranduil, scrabbling at him with sharp nails. Two of his guards caught her arms, restraining her.

"Come, Laithen, let us go home." The elf protested so strongly that they had to knock her out.

Thranduil seared his heart against the pain, scars atop the ones that were left from losing his father. So when the dragon came to Erebor, and the dwarves begged for his help, he could turn his back without a second thought.

 **Laithen kept autocorrecting to Laughing(or something), which is funny because Lalaith means laughter. Laithen is actually a shortened form of Alvalaithen, a name I found in a book. Thanks to nyx for reviewing, and the (slightly mysterious guest :-) Lord Illyren too!**


	10. Murderer(or Good Men Don't Have Rules)

**I wrote this for the mysterious guest Lord Illyren. Well, maybe not mysterious exactly, but I'd really like to know who he/she is!**

Maglor cradled his scorched hand, stumbling along the shifting sands that reached to the sea. One word echoed through his head. One dreadful, condemning, evil word.

Murderer.

How many of the Quendi had died because of his oath? How many Atani? How many families, like his, had been torn apart by a single mad quest?

When at last the elf turned back, he saw a pair faltering footprints. His own. But there were no others. None of the subtler signs of the children of Ilúvatar were present either. No noise except the toil of the sea. No scents except for the salt tang.

Now, as a murderer should be, he was alone. Maglor sat, knees pulled up to his chest and daydreamed the world away. Just watching the world go by, tides and seasons passing in the blink of an eye.

A little hand grabbed Maglor's shoulder and shook him gently back to reality.

"Who are you?" It was two ellyn, with matching faces and scruffy black hair. They reminded Maglor painfully of his own twin siblings, or Elrond and Elros.

"I am called- Makalaurë." The two nodded solemnly as Maglor cringed inwardly. How ashamed could he be of himself, to not want these young ones to know who he was? "And you?"

"I'm Eluréd, he's Elurín." A cold tingle washed down Maglor's spine. Lost for so long, these ellyn appeared less world weary than this that had lived through the War of the Jewels.

And so the Sons of Dior met at last the last son of Fëanor.

 **Thanks to the** **nyx** **and** **Lord Illyren** **for the wonderful comments, which I really enjoyed reading. Please read and review! If anybody wants me to put a little summary of the characters not in LotR and the Hobbit, I will.**


	11. I know you, but where?

**This was written for IeniraShur'tugal, since she suggested more with Eluréd and Elurín. But as 600 words is too few, I'll be writing more about them!**

A hooded elf called Aranir rode into Rivendell. Confidently finding the stables, he settled his horse and began to wander until he came upon a library. The shelves stretched almost to the ceiling, creating a narrow maze that was less constricting than cozy. Aranir pulled a thick, dusty history book from its place and settled comfortably on the floor to read.

The Lord of Rivendell called Elrond sighed as he strode from the maps room. Sauron's forces had been shifting lately and he didn't like it. To relax, he headed to the library. It was enormous, and full of wonderful old books.

Bothe elves had a liking for history, it seemed, and they met: an elf and his uncle. Elrond cleared his throat for the apparently oblivious elf. "Hello, traveller. I am Elrond Peredhel." He jumped to his feet, pulling back his hood, and bowed, careful to put not strain on the book's binding.

"I am called- Aranir." Their eyes met. Both thought reflexively of their twins. The four shared an uncanny resemblance. And now that "Aranir" thought of it, he realized that this elf looked like Elwing.

"Do I know you, Lord of Tears?" Aranir had opened his mouth, about to ask the same question.

"I know not, Half-elven. But perhaps I know you. There are only so many unions between the Edain and the Quendi."

Years later, Elrond would wonder about the quiet elf, who bolted as soon as he had left the library. Gone as abruptly as he had come.

 **Thank you to nyx, who is a very faithful reviewer(I'm being redundant, aren't I?), as well as IeniraShur'tugal for reviewing too. Yuki Suou reviewed twice(!) and followed. Hooray! P.S. I'll change the inaccuracy with Galadriel, and thanks for pointing it out.**


	12. Beyond the circles of the world

**I wrote this for Yuki Suou, for catching my mistake and being a reviewer. C'mon, I need more people to write my stories for! Not that I mind writing for you. :-)**

Eluréd could see it in the faces of everybody around him: fear made ugly by greed or hunger or war. His brother saw it too. They sat on their twin beds, side by side, reading intently. Both twins looked up simultaneously.

"The Nauglamír is a dangerous thing to have here, Ed."

"Yeah, Rin. Everybody looks at it and their eyes change."

A light lit in their eyes. "If you will, I will."

"Let's then, I'll write it up," Eluréd proclaimed, being the better writer and more decisive of the two.

I swear that neither peace nor war, hate nor love, powers nor kings, riches or poverty or even time can separate us my brother and I. Nothing will break our oath but death, though love will remain when we find each other in Mandos' halls. Until then, the ends of the world cannot tear my brother and I apart. I will choose the kindred that my brother chooses, and we will protect each other unto death. So may it be.

Eluréd and Elurín spoke the oath in solemn tones and then returned to their books, history for the former and mathematics for the latter.

 **Lady Lindariel is back! Unless she didn't leave and decided not to review, but she's nice, so I doubt it. Anywho, happy birthday! My friend's birthday is Sunday. If you wanted to know. Yuki and Lord Illyren also reviewed.**

 **Who is Lord Illyren? I really want to know...**

 **And one last thing. Anyone see the Doctor Who reference in my chapter title(maybe) two updates ago?**


	13. Hunting

Makalaurë, as they knew him, had taught them to hunt and fish. Then he had taken to playing his harp and singing, the songs piercingly bittersweet, as the gulls wailed along.

Older and properly sick of beach fare, the twins went farther than usual to hunt. They found a mostly quiet wood, and Eluréd had a whistle that Makalaurë had made to summon him from afar. Armed with light knives and bows, Eluréd and Elurín weren't expecting trouble.

Yet trouble came crashing through the underbrush. The twins exchanged glances, drawing their leaf-shaped knives. Eluréd stuck the whistle in his mouth, waiting.

"Two lonely elves alone in a wood and what do you think we'd do? Kill them, skin them and turn them into stew!" Rough, raucous laughing echoed around the twins. There were nearly ten foul creatures, things that animosity would only ever speak of in a whisper. Orcs.

The brothers faced the orcs, and Eluréd blew the whistle fiercely before attacking. Both brothers got an orc before they retaliated with whoops of- was it pleasure?

Eluréd felt a familiar presence disappear from behind him and whirled around, eyes blazing. He stood over his brother's body, determined to defend it to the last. But soon, the elf had to back up. Once, twice, thrice.

Hoofbeats sounded, a lone rider approaching. The lathered horse crashed into the orcs, sending them scattering like ninepins. The rider vaulted off of the horse's back, drawing a straight, coldly shining sword of ancient and sound design. The orcs that did not flee were cut down and did not rise.

Eluréd dropped to his knees beside his brother. "I love you, brother," the younger twin whispered. "But hurry not to where I am going, for you have a longer life to lead than I."

"Can't you do something?" The harpist shook his head sadly.

"I'm sorry, Eluréd." His heart twisted, breaking into a multitude of shards. Then he bowed his head, the only sign of grief aside from a ramrod straight posture.

Makalaurë helped the broken twin to build a cairn around his brother, then urged him onto the horse and led it away.

 **Only one review? Thanks Yuki! Oh well, I did get over 600 views! Thank you, I guess, to those silent readers who bring my view counts up, at least.**

 **Still, R &R!**


	14. Finally

As painful years passed without his twin, Eluréd noticed Makalaurë's music grow more sad and tired, even through a dazed disbelief.

"What troubles you, Uncle?" Eluréd sat easily at his foster father's feet. He smiled slightly, a painful expression.

"Everyday, I see two little boys left for dead in the forest, begging my brother's followers to please help them even as I listened. For a second time, young one, I have failed you."

Eluréd felt his heart lurch as he made the connections. But what did he care if this elf had been evil? He had been kind to the twins, even at the farthest, most deserted part of Middle earth. "Then you are him, Maglor Fëanorion. Mighty singer who plays notes of gold upon his harp. Only fortune can have given me your music, a king without a kingdom and a great musician without family." The lonely twin smiled, despite his shock.

One morning, some time later, Eluréd woke to the sound of the sea wailing. Alone. He jumped to full consciousness with a blink and sought out Maglor. The elf was lying down as if he had been staring at the stars. The only alarming thing was a lack of breath. "Ai, ai," Eluréd murmured, "Perhaps being the last is so painful, but what of me?"

Solemnly, reminded dreadfully of his brother, the elf gathered rocks to make his beloved guardian a cairn. "May you have rest, healing, and Mandos willing, peace. And may he forgive your transgressions in light of your suffering. Rest well." The fierce wind snatched his words away, carrying them out over the water.

Eluréd returned to Maglor's dwelling, to take what must be taken. A chest with a name carved in Quenya attracted his attention. It translated to Elu's heir, his own name. Inside was Maglor's harp and sword. Swallowing hard, he took the gifts, and began to trudge east.

After all, he had never figured out where the horse had come from.

 **Hooray, four reviews! Even though sixty percent of them are from nyx. To nyx, thanks! I think the chapters seem long because I've never really understood the concept of a drabble. It's still like a story, really, to me. To Lord Illyren, I think you should definitely write, if you want to! I'd read it :-). And also, if I didn't mention it, Yuki put a bit about me in her 100 drabbles titled Suilad! You should really read them. I think all of the 100 drabble collections are amazing, actually.**


	15. Filling in the Gaps

This time, Eluréd was marked in his coming to Rivendell. For the fine harp at his back, the crease of pain between his brows. And Elrond met him in the library, both finding the place appropriate.

"It has been many long years, Aranir. Would you reveal yourself to me, of all people?"

"King of Tears, without a kingdom. My brother and I were lost in a dark forest, escaped, then found lonely plains and forsaken mountains. We felt the world shake and be shaped. We encountered a great musician who taught us much. In the end he told me his name, as I will tell you mine. I am Eluréd, son of Dior, son of Lúthien the fair and Beren Erchamion." There shone a light in his eyes, one that Elrond had not seen in many a year, something that the Eldar of old had had as well.

"What of your brother and the harper?"

"They have- departed to the Halls of Mandos. The harper was Maglor, the last son of Fëanor."

"So Maglor has at last gone to face the Valar. He raised my brother and I." At Eluréd's confusion, he elaborated. "We were the sons of Elwing."

"Then I am indeed removed from my time. But tell me more of yourself."

"My brother, daughter and sons have been given up to the Second Kindred. My daughter has given her heart to a great king of men, who no doubt will care for her well. She is said to be in the likeness of Lúthien."

"Perhaps the fair give their heart more readily. I am sorry, sister son." His voice sounded truly sincere, face creasing with the pain of a recent loss. As he turned to leave, Elrond spoke again.

"Will you sail to the West?"

"- No. I have wasted a long span and have much to learn, to see, to love. I've heard beauty and sadness as one, I've seen solitary places, but I have not known much company for years. I need not go to Eldamar, for this world has become so wonderful and fair. I'll remain to learn and meet wonderful people and go to breathtaking places." Eluréd smiled a small smile, then left the library.

 **IeniraShur'tugal, Yuki and Lord Illyren all reviewed. Thanks! Lady Lindariel reviewed and even wrote a story to me in her 100 drabbles, which I think are beautiful. And all of her other stories too. Sonic(not the hedgehog, duh, the SCREWDRIVER!) reviewed a lot, with lots of caps and exclamation marks. :-). Levade followed, and you should check out his/her 100 drabbles too! They're... Fantastic!(get it?) If anyone didn't know, NirCele changed her name to Unexistant. Isn't that a cool name? Probably most people reading this have read her many stories, but if you haven't, you should. This is sounding like an ad, but I really like their stories.**

 **End super long author's note.**


	16. Run and run and run

**I don't think anyone saw yesterday's update because something weird happened... Anyways, read that first. :-)**

From Rivendell, Eluréd travelled as near due east as he could manage while crossing the mountains. He came at last to a looming forest, and a passing man told him that its name was Eryn Lasgalen. It was reminiscent of Doriath in a way that he couldn't place. A path led through, leading to a kingdom of caves. Much like Menegroth, the Thousand Caves.

Once more, Eluréd introduced himself as Aranir. As he wandered, he placidly thought of home, avoiding the sharp memories of his brother as if they were broken glass.

Eluréd found himself in a peaceful garden that was open to the turquoise skies. He perused his thoughts, feeling the gentle breeze on his back and the beaming sun on his face.

When he returned for a second time, Aranir heard the sound of 6 or 7 moving around. What looked like soldiers filled the garden with a tense silence. An elleth in a simple white dress sat where he had the day before, staring longingly towards the sky as if she wished to fly away.

"Sir, you should not be here." As the guards found themselves distracted, the elleth fled towards the wall, scaled it easily, and disappeared. The soldiers regarded the trees warily, as if they had once held darkness. Half of them ran back in, and the remaining few went out to follow.

Eluréd did so easily, even though the tracks were light.

"Ai! Hello!" The elf looked up, frightened. "Mae l'ovannen. Well met."

"Who are you? I have never known a quiet orc, or one who spoke any tongue of the First Kindred."

"Fortunate, then, that I am no orc. An orc murdered my twin and so I care not for them."

"But you look- oh!" She blinked, confused, as if her vision had shifted.

"Man esselyaná? What is your name?"

"Alvalaithen, though most call me Laithen."

"So, fair Laithen, what is wrong?"

"Did you not see the orcs hunting me, letting me see freedom but never for long?"

"They were not orcs, but your people. Open your eyes, see truly the forest before you, the green wood. You are not alone, for they have never left you."

Laithen gave a little shriek. "Thranduil, I must see him, if he is alive still. The Elvenking, you know."

Eluréd gaped. A king? Did that mean she was royalty?

 **Even though my story didn't show up as updated, Sonic not the hedgehog reviewed. Yay!**


	17. FIrst Word, Water

**Hi guys! Long time no read :-). Anyways, sorry about not updating for such a long time. My life sort of went kaput when I started writing this, in a bad way, so it's not surprising if I don't update frequently. I've got a couple of intersecting story arcs and stuff planned out, so I hope I can write them!**

Urwen Lalaith laughed happily, waving chubby limbs in the air. "Say mama, Lalaith," Morwen prompted.

"No, my dear little flower, say dada!" The two parents smiled at each other. Túrin looked up from his book, face grave and serious as he watched the scene, thumb in mouth.

The baby gurgled, a big smile on her face. She was the sun to Túrin's moon, the light to his dark, the smile to his frown, the innocence to his suspicion. They shared a close bond already, as Túrin loved to take care of his happy sister.

Therefore, in hindsight, no one was surprised when Lalaith's first word was uttered. "Torrrrin," she trilled, mirroring his little grin.

Húrin made a mock sad face. "It sounded like Húrin, no?" Morwen just shook her head.

"I have seen these symptoms before, in combination with water of the Dark Forest and torture. The cure would be to either overcome the terror in your mind or remain unseeing for five years. It is good you found the former," Eluréd commented.

"What? Where did you learn of such things?" Thranduil was surprised that this elf could know things of the woods that not even his people knew.

"The forest has been kind to me since I was young. And people where I grew up knew much of woodcraft."

"They did give me water to drink, but I thought they just wanted their plaything to last longer." Laithen shuddered, prompting Thranduil to pull her into a tight embrace.

As Eluréd turned to leave, meaning to slip away, the Elvenking stopped him. "The day you came to this kingdom was a great one. Perhaps the Greenwood may hold a celebration in your honor? We'll invite many. Your sister too, Laithen."

"Calaerwen? Wasn't she lost?"

"I'll explain later. So, Eluréd. Would you remain here, at least for a short while?" He would have wanted to stay anyways. The forest, it held him in its grasp and never wanted to let go. So, of course, he agreed.

 **Sorry I can't remember who reviewed, I'll respond next time… maybe? Anywho, who's Calaerwen?** **Mary Sue** **OC of mine, all else will be revealed...**


	18. Clouds

Calaerwen rode hard, angry thoughts swirling through her mind. Her stupid sister had married the cold, unfriendly king. And that stupid king had dared to take her sister from her. Well, let them be happy without her. The elf was so preoccupied that she didn't notice the oncoming storm until it was upon her.

Her horse balked, coming to a snorting standstill. No matter how much she coaxed, the creature wouldn't go on. The lofty, prideful horse she had grown up on, the fearless creature that had taught her to fall. Seriously afraid, Calaerwen dismounted and sprinted for what looked like a cave. She never made it. There was a flash and a shock went through her, then she knew no more.

 **Short piece because I had to break one up that had become too long. Thanks Lady Lindariel for reviewing five times! The second part will probably come in a couple of minutes...?**


	19. Handicapped

"I don't know what to do with an elf!"

"Shuddup, she's waking up." The elf opened her eyes. Who was she? What was she doing here? She blinked at them, and they stared at her.

"Who are you?" Perhaps the first voice.

"I don't know... Who are you?" Her limbs felt like two ton blocks of concrete and her head like it was stuffed with cotton.

"Mîm, and Loren. At your service." The elf grinned at the well practiced introduction.

"How about we call you Ellanar, sky-fire." An older dwarf hustled in, with a bag full of tools.

"I am Luten, ma'am," he said, shooing the younger dwarves away. "We found you during a lightning storm, you were presumably struck. Now, since you're an elf, you should heal much faster than average. But you'll experience some paralysis, probably. I'd say you'll be alright in a number of weeks, four months at the very most."

"Thank you, Master Dwarf," Ellanar said. "Thank you, now if I could know where I am?"

"Why, you're in the great dwarvish kingdom of Moria." She didn't know where that was, didn't much care. Her eyelids drooped, and she fell into an exhausted sleep.

 **Two chapters at once! Wow, I didn't know I wrote that much... Actually, I could have done this with one prompt, but I just read this Tamora Pierce book called Shatterglass, which inspired me a bit.**


	20. Gems and jewels and

As Luten had promised, Ellanar was as good as new long before the year was up. She was still unsure of her identity, but she felt fine aside from that.

Moria was a bustling, industrial city, full of craftsmen. The trade of glassblowing fascinated El, for some reason. Maybe it was the smooth pools molten glass. No matter why, a dwarf named Lîth agreed to teach her. "Skyfire," as they preferred to call her, proved a good student.

Soon, the elf became known for her blown glass globes. They seemed to contain fine webs of crackling electricity inside, though they never became hot or misted. The dwarves marveled at the globes, buying them as decoration.

"Skyfire indeed," they would say softly, "Perhaps Aulë should shock more elves and send them here." The new kingdom of Erebor was a way out of this scrutiny, and a fresh alternative.

There, the King-Under-the-Mountain sent someone to buy her globes. Ellanar was surprised, but she offered some of her best work. These she gave to a young dwarf, the Prince Thorin. The payment she took was lessons in sword fighting, which the astonished Prince accepted graciously.

 **Hooray! Reviews from three people! Two of which reviewed more than once. :-). Thanks Lady Lindariel, Sonic(not the hedgehog) and Lord Illyren. And I'd say Shatterglass is a pretty good book, unless you realize that all of Tamora Pierce's books are essentially the same... Sonic, I'm sorry that I couldn't figure out what to do with Luten, but look! I added another dwarf whose name starts with L! Haha. Review! Tell me if it seems too idealistic that Ella is going to get sword lessons from my second favorite dwarf, if there's a typo or you just don't like this style of drabbles. Cause I see drabbles that are tiny little still life paintings with language more beautiful than anything I've ever seen or hilarious ones that kill me... Really. Or just say hi...? If you've no idea what to say, of course.**


	21. Learning

Thorin kept his promise and taught Ellanar to fight with a sword. It was easy for her, though, as if she were simply recalling and old skill. Maybe she had been, she didn't know.

After a great many years, Erebor became a home to El, yet that was the year the great fire-drake came. It easily broke the futile resistance that the dwarves put up, and Ellanar was glad that Thorin had been away, since he would have died to hold his kingdom. And good old Lîth too.

She fled with the tide of dwarves, her feet halting as she passed an army with their king astride and elk. Elves. Her kin? Selfish ones, if they could stand to watch this destruction.

"You, king! You sit happily, an army behind you, and do naught! Is your heart so full of ice? I'm talking to you!" The elf glared haughtily at her, something flickering behind his eyes. Confusion?

"Erebor is my home, its people are my family. You just sit there as if helpless when you could be doing some good-". But El was forced to follow the end of the fleeing crowd. Angry tears pricked at the back of her eyes as she followed the dejected dwarves. Some people would just have to change.

 **Long time no update! Can't quite remember who reviewed, but thanks anyways :-). I'm not really sure why El wants to learn to fight with a sword, actually. (I may have said this before) but it's a fanciful notion given to me by the Valar and plot bunnies. Orn just a fanciful notion.**

 **If anyone would like to beta my first attempt at a Teitho entry, it would be much appreciated… Just PM me. And don't throw up, or bring a bag.**


	22. Fight On

Orcs. Where had they come from? Ellanar elbowed her way to the front of the column of dwarves, standing beside Thorin. "Don't do anything too stupid, yeah?" Thorin grunted in an affirmative sounding way. A fight was soon. Fire flooded her veins, and she drew a long sword. The two friends held their weapons at the ready.

The front line pointed spears and axes forward, a wall bristling with steel. Despite the Orcs spearing themselves on the wall, El watched worriedly as her friends grew weary. She watched as her closest friend faced the largest Orc, a pale and ugly creature. Tsking in annoyance, she fought her way to him. "I told you not to do anything stupid," Ellanar mumbled, mostly to herself, despairing as she watched Thorin lose his sword and shield.

Hastily throwing her opponent aside, El raced to stand before her friend, ducking the wide swing of a club. He growled as she stabbed him in the foot, snatching her high into the air. The Orc took her sword, hurling it at a distraught Thorin who had to dive away to dodge it. He bared his teeth in a grin, dropping her to the rocky ground. El screamed as the Orc's enormous club smashed into her. The world went black, though she tried to maintain consciousness, slogging back to the world before her.

"Thorin."

"I'm here."

"You need to promise me that no matter what, you'll fight on. For your people. Go back to Erebor one day. Maybe I'll return,". El swallowed hard, painfully. Lightning came down from the heavens, this time setting her fëa free. It came to the halls of Mandos.

 **It's the battle of Azanulbizar(I think that's the spelling). And I know it's a bit stupid. Oh well… Reviews?**


	23. Ship

A ship took Ellanar back to Middle-earth, though the memory of what came before it was blurred. She had rejoiced in the strength of her new hröa, at the salt spray on her face. Ulmo must have been guiding her ship, since it came without trouble to the Grey Havens.

An older, bearded elf was summoned. He greeted her, leading her into the city. "I am Círdan the shipwright. Perhaps we have met before?"

"I- I don't know."

"Once, I met one who looked like you. Her name was Calaerwen, with a sister named Alvalaithen." Calaerwen. El turned the name over and over in her mind. And slowly, slowly, she began to remember.

"Yes, I was leaving because Laithen married that idiot Thranduil. What year is it?"

"It is 3019 of the Third Age."

"What? I thought it was the second, or possibly early third. Many years indeed, Mandos. Anyways, I wish to go to Laithen."

"Middle-earth is a dangerous place these days."

"I can care for myself."

Círdan smiled at that. Within the next week, he gave her directions, provisions and allowed her to leave.

 **Please don't yell at me… I know that not many were sent back to Middle Earth(Glorfy) and having an OC be super special is sort of cliche. Yeah.**

 **Thanks to tooker86 for following and favoriting. Also, Lord Illyren for reviewing. Thanks for the review :-)**


	24. First in Mind

As Calaerwen travelled, she thought of her sister. Wavy brown hair, blue eyes, a sweet attitude that made her popular. As opposed to her own white blonde hair, dark gold flecked eyes and staunch defiance.

Her new hröa served well, and countless small bands of orcs met an untimely end. The elleth entered Mirkwood at an eager trot, banging on the enormous door. "Hullo!"

"What business have you here?"

"Visiting relatives." Reluctantly, the guard pulled the door farther open and admitted Calaerwen, squinting at her as if he recognized something about her. "My sister's name is Alvalaithen."

"But-"

"Take me to her, now." Calaerwen's jaw dropped when she saw her kind sister's eyes ablaze with ferocity, the elf chained up in a comfortable room.

"It has been a while since people have come to gape at me," she snarled.

Calaerwen whirled on the guard. "What did you do to her? And where's Thranduil?"

"It was orcs, and, um, he's in Dale."

"Well then I ride for Dale before nightfall. If the king cannot protect his own wife, well. I will-" The guard sagged with relief as she left, having heard the reputation of the sometimes acid elleth.

 **Thanks to Lord Illyren for reviewing. :-) Please review if you're reading… I like reviews...**


	25. Lifeline

**Hi guys, I'm back! I've typed out all 100 drabbles on a Google Doc, so now I just have to post them. This chapter was written a really long time ago(as were most of them), so I hope it's okay...**

 **Lifeline:**

Thranduil's eyes nearly bulged out of his head when he saw Calaerwen, as if finally understanding everything. She, for her part, interrupted Dáin and Brand's fancy dinner. "What did you do to Laithen?"

"These are strange times, and that matter must be left for other places."

"Oh, and did you notice the people of Dale are all packed and flooding in?" A distraught woman burst into the room.

"My children are still back in Dale! They must have returned for something. Please, you must help!" She pleaded to the two rulers of Dale and Erebor.

"We cannot spare any, and the coming battle will be long and difficult."

"I'll go." Dáin stared at Calaerwen until he realized she was serious. So he whispered the location of a back entrance that had been built into the side of the mountain and bade her good luck. Then, of course, the equally mulish Elvenking insisted of going too.

She made Thranduil wait at the entrance to Dale with the horses, and she went in to search for the two boys.

"Ethel. Casi!" They appeared, staring at her wide-eyed. "I'm Calaerwen, your mom sent me to get you. C'mon. The enemy are coming." Then the children went with her happily, stopping when they saw Thranduil. "That's just Oropherion, my brother-in-law." So the three mounted up. Calaerwen was surprised to see Thranduil smile at the trembling child, whispering something in his ear to make him laugh. The horses took off at a steady canter, though Calaerwen anxiously wanted to go faster. The army seemed to be keeping pace, and she didn't like that...

 **Thanks to Lord Illyren and Yuki Suou for reviewing!**


	26. Mixed Feelings

Only a single crossbow bolt came close to them, and Thranduil's horse shied nervously. Then two riders, seeing safety less than a mile ahead, spurred their horses into a full on gallop. The poor creatures were foaming at the mouth, mostly from fear and partly from exertion.

The older boy scrambled off of Calaerwen's horse as she opened the other side door to Erebor with a whispered phrase. She and Ethel helped the younger boy off his horse, and the two scampered off.

"What are you doing? Get off the horse. The passage isn't that tall." Calaerwen noticed uneasily that Thranduil was shivering, though he was sweating too. She helped him off the horse, sending both on into the passage. The two slammed the door behind them, and Calaerwen took a quick look at the King's wound, then blanched and turned away.

She summoned a healer, but the woman said she knew no antidote for this kind of poison. The healer found the two of them a room, and Calaerwen watched fearfully as Thranduil became delirious. Then she began to pray fervently to the Valar.

 **Look, I'm back! :-) I hope it's not too cliche or cringey, but I wrote this a long time ago and I was in love with Thranduil then. I hope y'all have a great day! Also thanks for everyone who decided they liked my stories enough to follow, favorite, review, you guys mean so much to me**


	27. Plants

Falling into a dream-like trance, Calaerwen found herself face to face with a radiant, beautiful being. "Lady Varda, Elentári, Elbereth Gilthoniel, Tintallë," Calaerwen babbled, as she did when nervous. The Valië had unnerving brown eyes with gold flecks, much like- her own?

"You were shaped by the Valar to be a servant for us among the Children of Ilúvatar." She gaped at the revelation. "Not many are allowed back to Middle-earth." Varda smiled, gentle in response to Calaerwen's bewilderment.

"Your friend is being tended to by my sister Kementári. She is a good healer, and all plants are within her reach. However, before tomorrow arrives, you must be back in Mirkwood. The kingdom needs a king. Perhaps this resistance will hold the enemy up." Calaerwen jolted awake, smiling as she saw Thranduil sitting up and rubbing bleary eyes.

"We must leave before dawn," both said in unison. They began to pack energetically.

 **If you didn't think my writing was cliche before, you probably do now. That's okay.**

 **Thanks a bunch to Lin for reviewing!**


	28. Fell Creatures

"Trust me," he had said, "These are my woods." Pah.

"Are we lost?" Calaerwen tried her best to sound innocent. Thranduil silently parted a curtain of brush, showing the clearing before his caverns' entrance. Orcs paced there, causing Thranduil to reorient and head off in a different direction. There was a garden above the ground, and a door was hidden in the grass carpet.

"They didn't lock it," Calaerwen commented. "I wonder where they all are." The two answered that question for themselves when they walked into the largest chamber, which was packed full of elves.

An important-looking elf commander ran up to Thranduil, the relief clear on his face. "Sire, you have returned."

"Yes, yes." Calaerwen couldn't help but grin at this dismissal. "Do you have a plan?"

"You should send some out the side door in the garden to flank them, then have some signal and all attack at once," Calaerwen said.

"Well thought, miss," the general said. At Thranduil's nod, he ran off and began to bark orders.

 **Please R &R?**

 **Also, I think I missed the point of the prompt. Anyways, thanks again to Lin for your support!**


	29. What Happens Now?

"Where will you go?" Thranduil asked.

"Places," Calaerwen said vaguely. "But don't worry, I'll stay alive. I'll probably go to Erebor and see what's happened when I was in the Halls of Mandos."

"It's been a great number of years," Thranduil cautioned.

"I can't stay here, though, not with Laithen-" the elleth cut herself off. "I'll come back, though, promise."

"So it goes, people come and go while the king remains tethered to his kingdom. So it goes until the king grows old and rules no more. Everyone moves on, while I remain behind.

"As I said, I'll come back." Calaerwen's eyes twinkled. "You know I will."


	30. Letter

The war for the one ring was over, though Calaerwen knew little of it aside from the valor that the kingdoms of Men had shown. She rode into Erebor.

"Ho, traveller! What would you have of Erebor?"

"Do you know if Lîth the glassblower still resides here?"

The dwarf was greatly aged, and he smiled a crinkly smile at Calaerwen. "'Tis good to see you again, El. I know not why I have been given such a long span, except that I have a message and perhaps Mahal finds it important. I have a letter from Thorin."

"Dear Ellanar," it read, "I watched you die, yet with immortals there is always hope of return.

"If there are dwarves in Erebor, then things are as they should be. This quest I find myself on is a dangerous one, and I would gladly die to reclaim my kingdom. I have, I guess, taken the slower path while you remain in the West. Do not blame yourself for tarrying.

"Though I blame you least of all, I say come quickly if you can. Come quickly if by some miracle these words reach you. A quick blade and tongue by my side has been missed across the years.

"Godspeed, my lonely Skyfire,

"Thorin"

Calaerwen clutched the letter tightly to her chest. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Lîth swallowed hard before replying. "Yes, dear girl, yes he is." At that, Calaerwen's fortresses fell down, and she sobbed as if her heart would break for the first time since her parents had went into the West.

 **Read and review pretty please?**


	31. Sunset

Frodo managed to muster a smile for each one who met his gaze, but he couldn't help thinking of the three who had become the truest friends a hobbit could have. He was just leaving them behind, without warning or long farewell.

Elrond was beginning to have misgivings about leaving. His children were behind, his wife ahead, and both battled for his heart.

Bothe turned their eyes to the West, where Urien's great ship sailed. As it passed from view, it did so with a blaze of brilliance. Then the stars peeked out from the clouds, gentle and icy, gems set to burn in the heavens. They peered curiously up at themselves from the tranquil surface of the water, and found the sight pleasant.

Then Elrond thought of his father sailing amongst the stats, and Frodo thought of the Phial of Galadriel. Together, they marveled at the beauty as they went West, even at sea in the dark velvet grip of night.

The land the lay before them was a land of healing, of longevity, of gentleness, and indeed it was very good.


	32. Transportation

Fëanor roused Maedhros, the flame of passion kindled once again in his eyes. The tired elf worried for his father, though the man himself worried not. "Come, my son, let them that curse my name curse me still and whine their way back to the cages of the Valar! A wind has come from the north-west, so let us take the ships." Maedhros heeded his father, for his brothers were there also. Silently, Fëanor and his sons rowed to Middle-earth, the only noise being a soft splash of water.

And when the ships landed, Fëanor cried, "Burn them! For the others doubted me when my sons alone remained faithful. Therefore they shall not come to these shores with my aid." Maedhros alone withheld his hand, for the others were taken by anger and fervor.

"Wait, brothers, are there not seven of us? Here are six only. Where, then is the seventh?"

"If one of my sons have remained behind, then let them." But Amrod pointed mutely at the burning mass of boats, where an anguished face peered out. There was nothing they could do, though Amrod splashed waist-deep into the water.

A wail of pain echoed over the water, and Maedhros dragged his younger brother back to stop his going to his twin. The two alone grieved as they went on their way, though the others remained silent.


	33. Breaking the habit

Amrod was tired of all this death. So instead of scouting ahead as his brothers had asked, he warned the people there, returning with a purposely flawed report.

When the attack fell, Amrod pulled on a cloak and unsheathed his two knives. Avoiding his brother, instincts screaming, he took out one elf, then another. A clever soldier spotted the most formidable force on the battlefield, nocking and arrow and shooting. The arrow threw Amrod around as he struggled to stay on his feet.

Amrod saw the elven twins, young and wide-eyed, and his heart broke. Using up the last of his strength, he cleared a path for the oblivious ellyn. Then he hoped against hope that they would never be separated.

"Who did this?" Maedhros shook the unfortunate young villager captive.

"Not one of us surely, since he warned us of your coming."

Maedhros' eyes widened as he reasoned out the situation. "Oh, Amrod. Truly the name Umbarto is fitting for my Ambarussa. My brother, dear brother." The elf cradled his brother's body to himself, beginning to weep. Maglor stood numbly, eyes glazed. The weight on both their shoulders seemed to have increased threefold, a token of the greed that swept the world.


	34. Fickle

"What do you want?" Calaerwen wanted to grin when the messenger flinched.

"King Thranduil bids you return."

"Why would be want that?"

"Good news in the kingdom! Our Queen has returned." Calaerwen suddenly wanted to hug the elf.

"You could have said that!" She spurred her horse forwards. "Noro lim, Oarethele!" The stocky, midnight colored horse adopted a smooth hair that it could maintain for hours. Calaerwen laughed aloud, the wind pulling her hair back like a pennant. The messenger stared at her funny, but she cared not. She was going home.


	35. Celebration

As soon as Calaerwen dismounted, friendly hands took her horse to the stables. A smiling, dark haired elf whisked her away. "I've found you a wonderful blue dress! Not pink, this time." Calaerwen grinned at the whirlwind that was her sister.

When Calaerwen finished, Laithen spun her around. "You look wonderful! Eluréd will be falling head over heels."

"Matchmaking? Really, Laithen, I'm good."

"You'll become a lonely old hag," the older sister teased. She snagged a passing elf. "Eluréd! This is my sister, Calaerwen."

But Calaerwen was the one falling head over heels. Eluréd's eyes had a sort of light in them, like from the days of old and he had a mop of dark hair that fell into dark eyes. To distract herself, she spoke. "Hello." Eluréd. She had heard that name before, reading through the library. "You don't happen to be the Eluréd, do you?" Calaerwen fully expected him to say no, and smile at her folly.

"Yes, actually, if you mean the first in history to be born to that name."

Laithen smiled a wicked smile. "I've got to do my hair. Have fun!" Calaerwen seethed.


	36. Tears

The celebration dinner was a festive affair, with very well- aged wine taken from the dusty corners of the cellars. People became strange and giddy, red-faced and loud, and Calaerwen hated it. She hunched over her ragged nails, examining them uncomfortably. An awful voice started to sing a satirical and overly unpleasant song on the seven sons of Fëanor.

Reading on rainy days, and sunny ones too, Calaerwen had formed her own and much less judgmental opinion of them. They weren't that awful, just because they were prone to folly as all others. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an abrupt but fluid motion.

Eluréd made his way out of the room, and though he was good at hiding his emotions, Calaerwen saw the tight set of his jaw and a seed of anger in his eyes. She stood too, leaving much less politely.

She found Eluréd outside, staring up at the stars on a stone bench. "Are- are you okay?" She sat down next to him.

His voice was muffled when he spoke. "I think his fëa fled from shame that my brother died." There was only one son of Fëanor that could still be alive.

"You know Maglor?" The greatest musician, and her decided favorite of the brothers.

"I knew him," Eluréd whispered, a shining drop weaving down his cheek, at last a tear for everyone and everything he had lost. Calaerwen was awkward, everyone would attest to that, but she put an arm around him without speaking. Silence healed grief better than speaking with someone who didn't understand. That she knew for sure, a companion to sadness and silence.


	37. On my own

Boromir felt the thrill of adrenaline creep over him, and the protectiveness that he had felt for his brother so many times.

Strength of arms had been his delight, and many an Orc was slain by his bright sword. Many stopped in selfish fear, drawing bows as their comrades died in front of them. Using reflexes he never knew that he had, Boromir sliced the first volley out of the air. The next time, he wasn't so lucky. The shattering impact and sneaking poison of the arrows halted him for only a second before he fought on.

"Go Frodo," the man whispered. "Forgive me my weakness, and go swiftly." The orcs ran on, triumphant, and the last concern Boromir had was for the cousins he had been defending.


	38. A simple delight

Evanlyn grinned fiercely, hair ribbons trailing down her back. She disarmed her opponent, stabbing him through.

Or she would have, had she fought with a real sword. The slim slip of a boy grimaced, holding his ribs. "C'mon, Halt. You let your sister beat you?"

When the Steward's son had begun teaching children of the city to fight with swords, Evanlyn's mother Alyss had insisted she go. And oh, how she loved it.

Evanlyn huddled in a building in Minas Ithil with her baby brother Gilan. "Why does Halt have to fight? I'm much better than him!"

"I couldn't lose you both," Alyss said, grey eyes inscrutable.

"But don't you think Halt is going to-" Evanlyn bit her lip, stopping her argument. The girl closed her eyes to plead with the Valar, the deities who she had only ever heard about.

Bring him home, please. Help us win this war. Help Boromir and Faramir and Denethor. Help the elves and the dwarves and all that oppose Sauron. But please, please bring Halt home.

Then the stubborn girl started a sword fighting class for all the people that waited, though they often had to stop and be silent.

Let it be known, she wanted to shout, that Evanlyn fought to the very last.


	39. Wayward

Calarwen and Eluréd rode to Ithilien to do what Thranduil had surreptitiously requested. Bring his son home.

They found the elf Legolas pulling weeds cheerfully alongside a dwarf. The dwarf, Calaerwen noted with amusement, kept trying to pull flowers. She knew the elf was who she was searching for by the similarity in appearance to his father.

"Hail, Thranduilion!" Eluréd called, having drawn the same conclusion she had.

"Forgive me, but I do not know who you are," he replied politely.

"I'm your aunt," Calaerwen volunteered, "Laithen's sister. My companion is called Eluréd. Your father sent us, and he wishes that you would return home."

"I don't-" Legolas began.

"Now, boy. The time I realized that I shouldn't loathe my father for his pride was after his death, when we could never see each other again. So I suggest you forgive whatever it is."

"I just cannot feel welcome in my home anymore, not only because of my father. It is not home anymore."

"Hah! You only wish to be nice. I hated Thranduil too, once. But if not for him, return for your mother, who has been found." Calaerwen smiled at the princeling's abrupt change of attitude.


	40. The lion and the mouse

"Country after country, falling like Dominoes. Nothing can stop it, nothing until one tiny, damp little island says "no". No, not here. A mouse in front of a lion. You're amazing. The lot of you. Don't know what you do to Hitler, but you frighten the hell out of me." Doctor Who, "The Empty Child"

The two exhausted hobbits stumbled together through a dark land. Bruised and perhaps broken, they could not despair.

Sam could only think of Rosie Cotton, the red cheeked lass, the most beautiful thing in the Shire. What was he, that the only riches he had were in people? The Wise had their gems, gold, silver, rings even. Compared to the world full of people, he was insignificant, and even as people went, he felt ever so plain.

Frodo yearned for the comforts of Bag End, thinking about the days ahead. He felt freezing cold and swelteringly warm at once. He was weak, he knew that. A hobbit was no wizard, no warrior, no elf. They were not all that adventurous or special. What could he do against a god?

But with each step he took, he could say that he was getting closer to overthrowing that god. He had to believe that the little things could count, or he would fall into despair.

The two exhausted hobbits stumbled together through a dark land. They tried their best to hope their resistance would change the world, an hour at a time.


	41. Documentation

"You just want to drag the stars down, stick them underground, underneath tons of sand and dirt, and label them. You're about as far from the stars as you can get!" Doctor Who, "Dalek"

Sauron looked up, looked to the beautiful gems that were stars. He saw the Sickle that was the Valar's challenge to Melkor and anger burned in him.

If there should be stars, let them show no allegiance! Put them in neat rows so all could look up to hope and be comforted. Surely even enemies could allow each other dreams?

The Valar, cold and cruel and evil, who did little and spoke much. Hypocrites one and all. Worthless, ruthless hypocrites with more power than they should have.

Let them have their stars and remain in Valinor, remain aloof. He would have no part in it.


	42. Inner Beauty

"You know when sometimes you meet someone so beautiful and then you actually talk to them and five minutes later they're as dull as a brick? Then there's other people, when you meet them you think, 'Not bad. They're okay.' And then you get to know them and… and their face just sort of becomes them. Like their personality's written all over it. And they just turn into something so beautiful." Doctor Who "The Girl Who Waited"

When Éomer first met Lothíriel, he could see that she had great beauty. She had long, jet black hair, clear green eyes, a straight nose. Much like many other wives that had been suggested for him, in fact. Pretty, clever, sweet. No matter what, they all seemed to want something of him, all pretended to understand matters of the kingdom.

But there was something genuine about her, so he allowed her to return. She was fearless, speaking her mind and admitting failings. When she spoke of certain things, her eyes shone, and she would allow a small smile to reach her eyes.

In some ways, the Lady reminded Éomer of his sister. She was more tenacious than most, and enjoyed wielding sword and bow. But in a way, the two women were different. Lothiríel attacked with cold formality when Éowyn would have been ferocious, retired when his sister would have been riding or helping some village.

Éomer knew not what to think of her. Instead, he said yes to her proposal.


	43. Any one of us

"Because it's always the same. When you fire that first shot, no matter how right you feel, you have no idea who's going to die. You don't know who's children are going to scream and burn. How many hearts will be broken! How many lives shattered!" Doctor Who "Zygon Inversion"

He could still remember the betrayal in her eyes when he had left, and all of Valinor had learned of his new allegiance. Alarcë, the only one who was close to him despite his compulsion to order, Alarcë the most beautiful and fleetest of Manwë's servants.

She had been like a sister to him, as close as the Eldar were joined by blood. They had stood together even as Mairon struggled to control his power. They had stood together for so many years. Until he had betrayed her.

When the hosts of Valinor had flooded into Middle-earth, part of him wished that he had come and the other part wished she could be safe and far away.

As the battle raged, he hid himself and searched. At last, far away, he could see the Maia with a group of Vanyar. Her magic was familiar to him, the gentle shield she put up to avoid confrontation. The shield was flickering, surrounded by darkness. It took much of the strength that she had never had, and Mairon worried.

He watched in horror, unable to move, as the small group was swept away by the tide of dark, for once realizing what he was part of.


	44. I am flying

"Astrid Peth, citizen of Sto. The woman who looked at the stars and dreamed of traveling. Now you can travel forever. You're not falling, Astrid, you're flying!" Doctor Who "Voyage of the Damned"

He had led his people over the Helcaraxë, had lost his youngest child, had saved Maedhros and become the King of the Noldor. But he was tired of all the death around him.

Fingolfin fought the Vala Melkor, looking at first like he could match Melkor. But at last the King grew weary, brought thrice to his knees. Thrice he rose again, taking up sword and shield. Yet the earth about him was rent and marred, causing him to stumble. The Black God at last brought the elf down. He put his foot upon the neck of Fingolfin, a terrible weight. And yet even this was struck by Ringil, scarring the Black Foe.

The High King's body was not to be defiled by the wolves of Morgoth, for the great Eagle Thorondor took and bore him to a mountaintop near Gondolin.

And there was no song written great enough to tell of his sacrifice, nor any words ever written irreverently of it.

He knew not of these things, and indeed did not care. His fëa floated among the stars, the very stars he had loved as a child. He was free from the strife below, having done his part. In fact, he was flying.


	45. Fountain

"I am and always will be the optimist. The hoper of far flung hopes and the dreamed of improbable dreams." Doctor Who "The Almost People"

Nika Goldeye, the Gondorian girl named for her single golden eye, stole out of her house quietly. It was full, as usual, of shouting, tears and anger. Luckily, it had been built outside of the city, away from other homes.

She trotted steadily, walking the distance to Ithilien. She had heard of the wishing fountain they had built and wanted to see it. Nika held her coin, wondering if she should have brought more to equal the troubles in her life. But she closed her eyes and wished. Make everything be okay, please. Then it was gone, the coin that could have bought a bit more grain, or even more ale for her Mam. Nika couldn't help thinking that this wishing was foolish.

Turning to leave, she started at the sight of a blonde elf. "Do you often watch people without their knowledge?"

"No, they can often hear my approach if I wish them to. I do not purposely remain unheard." Nika turned to leave, to take the road back home. "What is your name? Why do you live so far from the city?"

"I'm Nika. And it isn't your business to know." Tears sprang to her eyes unbidden.

"Hey, are you okay?" The elf stopped her with a hand.

"Fine." She didn't dare to meet his eyes, afraid she might end up telling this stranger everything, things that no one could know.


	46. My weapon's name

When Nika's mother was passed out from the alcohol and her brother in a shivering sleep, she would take her father's sword down from above the fireplace. Shame she named it, and shame was truly what it represented. Even though it was so, Nika knew someone had to be able to protect the family. Just in case. So she taught herself to tend to and wield Shame.

She was polishing it when they came. There were three of them: a man, dwarf and elf. It struck her as strange that the dwarf and elf were riding a horse together. Then she realized who the elf was.

Holding a boiling temper in check, Nika answered the door with the sword in her hand. "You, what do you want?" She closed the door behind her.

"No hello? Ah well. I am Legolas, my friend here is Gimli, and the man is Faramir."

She knew those names. They had been floating about when she went to the market. But she did not remember who they were. "What are you doing here?"

"We have come to fulfill your wish, lass," the dwarf said in a chipper voice. "Whatever it was."


	47. Cowardice

Elsren had been the ideal soldier, possessing an intellect, physically fit, trained in the use of weapons and used to hardship. The only flaw he had was a fear of bloodshed, a love for peace.

He had volunteered to fight anyways, along with his friend Gen. They had competed all through school. Elsren hoped to become closer to Gen through the crucible of war.

The two, mostly still boys, were sickened by the hand of fear on everything around them. Eyes became hopeless, backs bent, gentle tongues sharp. And they spoke often, in secret, of running away. Gen eventually found his way out, through death, and in the process gave Elsren the chance to run away.

He fled far, coming to a remote place, hidden by brush and walls of stone. There he found a young woman living, who had left home when her father was pronounced missing.

They made a home, a little haven safe from the raging storm, afraid to leave for shame.


	48. A difficult road

Eventually, Nika gave in. She agreed to meet the three again some time. When the day came, she left home in the early morning. A little ways away, she stopped and waited, pacing. At last, she spotted a rider. The man, Faramir. He reminded Nika of her father: quiet, kind, smart, capable. The absence of the strange Legolas and loud Gimli was comforting.

"Hullo, and welcome to my childhood playground, classroom and refuge," Nika said.

"Were you not educated?" Faramir asked with a small frown.

"I love to read, and write some if I have to. Da taught me, though he hasn't had much time since. He's got to work a lot."

"Oh? Tell me about it. What drove you to Ithilien alone, for something as insubstantial as hope?"

Nika was about to reply but broke off, looking into the distance. "Da's back early today, I think you should leave."

But within a few seconds, the horse and rider were within earshot. "Da, I can explain..." Elsren dismounted, only to bow down on the ground.

"Lord, if my daughter has done wrong, please do not punish her."

"Your daughter? No, she has done no wrong. Get up." The man straightened, still nervous. "A friend of mine saw your child wishing on the fountain in Ithilien. We want to grant her wish if we can. What has been going on?"

"I was young when I enlisted in the army and I- I ran away. When people learn of that, they tend to treat us badly. And Nika and her mother have strangely colored eyes. People think that they are witches. My son Gen is very sickly. The towns have no room for people like us. And it is hard to find a job with the arrow wound I have from the war. Illyna, my wife, has become very stressed out by taking care of Gen, so she escapes through drink. It is very costly, to say the least."

Faramir smiled. "Time and a bit of help should remedy many of those things."


	49. Point of view

The horses sped up, the horses that were in the process of changing her life, as storm clouds blew swiftly on the wind. when the carriage stopped, Elsren hustled his wife into the "humble" residence in Emyn Arnen.

Nika smiled as the rain began to fall, as if it could wash away the past, cleanse the stains from her skin. She saw a fiercely beautiful woman with her face turned to the sky.

"Isn't it wonderful, the raw power of the heavens, its sheer freedom?" Nika nodded politely in response at the woman, who smiled at her. "I am Éowyn."

"Nika," the girl replied.

Gen tugged on her sleeve. "It's cold," he said, teeth chattering. Nika instantly felt bad, taking the little boy's hand and leading him into the building.


	50. Halfway

Nika could still feel her family ripping apart at the seams. It was like the need to survive, the empty stomachs were a temporary sort of glue. It was gone now.

Her father wandered around listlessly, reflexively trying to find work he could do. Her mother complained often, since she was forcefully separated from alcoholic drinks. Gen had a new sparkle in his eyes, new color in his cheeks, but he was often lonely.

It made her feel guilty, to be swallowing up text after text of information even as she drifted away from her family. But what else was there to do?


	51. Hot

The sensation of burning woke him, as it often did. But this felt real. What was going on? Faramir opened his eyes, alarmed at the tongue of flame dancing prettily on the carpet, eagerly eyeing the hem of his robe. He could barely move, could barely speak. "Fire," he muttered, "fire!"

A pale, slightly confused face peered out from the rows of bookshelves. A small figure snatched up the rug and beat the flame out in the hallway.

Nika Goldeye returned, looking to the growing flame on Faramir's clothes. She watched him for a quick moment, and he could only stare back with growing panic. Then she squinted slightly at the flame. It winked out, and the clothing repaired itself neatly. Twitching in an almost rabbit-like fashion, Nika fled.


	52. Cold

Nika shivered as the wind shrieked past, unnaturally rough as it encountered her figure on the smooth roof. Below in the courtyard, the sight of raven hair caused her to climb up farther.

There was a window that was only slightly ajar, but she opened it further and climbed in. It led to a dark room piled high with crates. There was very little light, but Nika could make out the door. It was obscured by one particularly tall and haphazard stack of boxes.

Long arms and legs sprawled into the room. "It has been a while since I have come here. That was back when I was still young." Nika smiled despite herself. "This is where my father out my mom's stuff after she died."

"I'm sorry," Nika said awkwardly, offering a smile smile.

"It was when I was born, so I don't remember her. It's okay."

"Oh."

"How about we stay here a while, until the wind tires herself out." Faramir changed the topic easily, as with constant practice.


	53. Hidden

"You can do magic," Faramir said with quiet wonder. He tilted his head in an exaggerated fashion. "With you around, I would never have to be afraid of fire again." Watching Nika, he saw his her eyes were reluctant to meet his, how her body curled in on itself to present a smaller surface area.

"It is not all that wonderful," the girl muttered, "believe me. My Lord." Her head ducked down lower.

"I do not believe that what someone is born to matters. What they do with that is what can change things."

"Do you truly believe that? You are a noble, you own lands where your word is law."

"You would be surprised," Faramir muttered, eyes watching a distant time out of memory. "But yes, I do believe that you can change people's individual worlds."

"Who-" Nika gathered her courage, "if you don't mind me asking, who is that man with the dark hair, eyes like the oncoming storm, with strength and pride in his shoulders? Who is the old man who looks not old, yet eternal at the same time, with obsidian eyes and ivory skin?"

Nika flinched as the openness in Faramir's face was chased away by a strange, darker emotion. "Have not the gossip, the whispers told you of such things?"

"I'm sorry, but I cannot help it. Living things tell me things. But I spoke out of turn. I'm sorry."

"No young one, I apologize. The grief is still too near, and few speak of my family in front of me." He laced his fingers behind his neck and bowed his head, then got up. "Excuse me."


	54. Threads

"Look, Ka!" Gen grinned, then stuck his palm flat out in front of him. The blankets on the bed seemed to explode, then the individual fibers began to weave themselves into intricate patterns. She blanched at the sight. The little boy looked over in concern. "Nika?"

"Look at me, Gen," she said, kneeling down to put her hands on his shoulders.

"It can be okay," they recited together, then bumped heads.

"But why Nika? Is it bad?"

"It's not bad, sweetie," she replied. "But people might be scared of you for it. Be careful."

"And what does it mean, it can be okay?" He said, clearly not having been listening.

"Because it may never be okay, and it might. If you know that it can be, you won't be afraid to change things. You won't be afraid to try because you can't succeed, you'll have hope. So I remember that I can be in charge of my life." She tapped a thread on the way out, and the blanket repaired itself obediently. If only she could fix herself, her family as easily.


	55. Threats

It started small, someone knocking her books off of her desk, someone treading on her heel, someone giving her dirty looks. But it got to the point where she was afraid to walk into school. No one wanted her there, she didn't want to be there.

She had her head up, not too proud nor too humble, clutching her books to her chest, as she walked up to the schoolhouse. There was a larger group of adults there. As soon as she was spotted, they began to shout and jeer. An egg broke against the skirt of her uniform, and she slowed, uncertain.

Then she turned and ran.

"Hey, Nika," a gentle voice said. It was the beautiful woman, Éowyn.

"Oh, hi! I was daydreaming," she said. Although it was more of a daymare.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

"You'd probably have to pay me in gold."

"Ah, tight-lipped, are we?"

"Have a coin?" Éowyn smiled and flipped Nika a gold coin.

"Your turn."


	56. Down the river

The water looked cool and open on the surface, but within was a powerful entity that discerned those that knew what they were doing from those that didn't.

"Are you sure they'll be able to fix me?" Nika asked, gazing down the river from its grassy bank.

"Not fix you, you were never broken," Faramir replied. "I know people there who can help you control your ability as much as you might wish. You can come back at any time. When Gen gets older, he can choose to go too."

"I don't want to just leave my family," Nika protested.

"They haven't been an important part of your life for a while, have they? Don't worry, I can make sure they are well."

"And I'm just going to up and leave tomorrow? Possibly for years?"

"You may say goodbye, of course," Faramir said, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. "I promise that I won't banish you between now and tomorrow." Nika threw her arms around his neck, hiding her damp eyes in the Steward's shoulder.

"Thank you, so much," she said, eyes shining with gratitude.


	57. Betrayal

"What- what do you want to do?" Myrtle Hayward was flushed, slightly confused after the fifth time that Frodo spaced out on her.

"Look, Myrtle, I like you and all, but I can't do this. I don't want love at such an old age."

"But you're only fifty one! That's half old Bilbo's age when he left, bless him." Myrtle's eyes filled with tears. "Are you just trying to get rid of me? I understand if you are. You're famous, probably rich. You don't need a watcher's daughter, not one so shallow as me anyways."

"I don't need you as a wife, but we can still be friends. Besides, anyone, no matter what others tell you, can do amazing things. I used to be just the peculiar orphan hobbit living with that strange, rich Bilbo. Sam was a servant of sorts, even though a gardener should be honored. That's all we were when we set out on the quest. You're an ordinary sort, but it doesn't have to stay that way."


	58. Count down

Based on the Hindu celebration Karva Chauth that I read about in Rebecca Stead's new book.

Aragorn watched curiously as the Easterlings went about their business. Most of the women had not eaten since the sun had come up, though they usually had an important meal in the morning.

He sat, back against the side of a building, wrapped in a dark cloak and left unnoticed. Today seemed a day of festivities, but not in terms of food. In fact, those that did eat were eating quickly and plainly, trying not to draw attention to themselves. Some wore different things than usual, and seemed to be carrying out familiar rituals.

The moon came out again, and so did the people. All walked in pairs. One stopped close to Aragorn, and the woman looked up at the moon through her scarf, then took a clay jar of water. This she held up, saying something in an almost chant-like fashion. Then she looked at the man beside her through the scarf, speaking again in the strange language.

They smiled into each other's eyes, then the man gave the woman some water from the jar and fed her some food from a cloth bag that had been tied around his waist. Then together, they left, heading for home.

Aragorn smiled in wonder at the day's events, still sitting quietly.


	59. On the brink

"This is a small entrance, my friend, are you sure that it is the best idea to go in?" Legolas stood before a cave opening, one hand on his hip.

"It'll be absolutely safe, don't you worry," the dwarf said happily. "Many were the days when I played here as a child. Come on, elf, or are you scared?"

"I do not like being in caves that are so tiny. What if you have to get out quickly?"

"Y'don't, all you have to do is trust the rock," Gimli said, proceeding to plunge head first into the cave. His voice echoed when he called back. "See, perfectly safe!"

Legolas followed gingerly, reeling back when he saw the long, slim looking bridge that spanned a twenty foot gap. "Safe, dwarf? I think not." Legolas laughed tightly, eyes squinted halfway shut.

"Do not be afraid, elf, you have such good reflexes." Gimli led his friend to the edge of the chasm, and they sat, legs dangling over the side.

"You are enjoying this, I think."

"You had no problems with Moria, even there were orcs behind," Gimli said, saying it like a question.

"I guess." He sighed. "When I was little, I was playing in one of the more remote caves of my fathers. I fell over the edge, it wasn't very deep, but I broke my leg. No one knew where I was. I must have been there for a day at least. It was a while before I lost my fear. And then there was Moria. Watching Gandalf falling, hearing his story, it made me afraid again. I know I said that I would go to the Thousand Caves with you, and I promise that I will. Somehow."

"I'm not worried. I'll wait a lifetime if I have to."


	60. Wind

Tuilin looked around, making sure no one was there. His father would laugh if he saw. Or yell. He hurried on to his friend's chambers.

"Tuilin! Good to see you," Tuor greeted. "Come in."

The heir to the House of the Swallow perched on the very edge of the chair offered. "So, did you know there was wind in caves?"

"Yes, I had noticed that. Strange, no?"

"Yeah, and I was having an archery competition with Maeglin. He said that if I won he would give me his bow. I was going to win, but there was a draft and my arrow went sideways. I got angry, and, I broke my bow." Tuilin hung his head. "Da's going to be so mad at me! He made it himself, for my tenth birthday."

"Oh, well, when I was younger, I broke something very precious to my father. Very old, close to his heart. He had told me not to play with it, but I did. When he learned, he was very angry. But you know what he told me? That he loved me more than anything else, that his time with me was more precious than anything else. I'm sure your dad will think the same."

Tuilin grinned. "Okay, thanks Tuor!" He skipped out, considerably happier.


	61. Hobby

"I'm bored," Eldarion complained to his sister Ivriniel. She barely looked up at him, concentrating instead on the gaudy scarf she was crocheting. "I said I'm bored! Are you even listening? I'm gonna be the King, you know. You don't ignore the King's heir!"

Ivriniel sighed and put her project down. "Come on, little brother, let's find you something to do." Her eyes grew mischievous.

They went outside together, and Ivriniel went to a shed. She took out a small bow and strung it.

"Ooh, archery!" Eldarion took the bow from her as well as a quiver of arrows that she offered. Then he ran out to the shooting range.


	62. Earth

She was his protectress, his strength. She hid him from the eyes of the enemy, provided cover from the arrows and spears. She was the sureness of his feet, the one to cry to when the terror was on him. She stifled his fear, held him tight. She was always going to be there for him.

She was the earth and he was the soldier.


	63. Rebellion

"I refuse! You will not have him," the man snarled, "my only son will not give his life on a battlefield and be forgotten alongside scores of others." He was hunched, hair silvered, hands shaking slightly, but he was determined.

The son in question looked slightly uncomfortable. "Dad, it's okay. I will be fine, and besides, it is an honor to serve Gondor this way."

"You know little of war, boy, only the tales of glory. I have learned the more evil side of it, and you do not need to see it. You have so many years ahead of you! Do not waste them!"

"You have no choice, sir." The recruiter smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes. "I will be expecting you in the town's tavern at sundown. Thank you for your time." He shut the door firmly behind him.

"You're not going," the father said, heading to get the family nag ready for a long journey.

"I-"

"It's for the best."


	64. Retaliation

A howl echoed through Rivendell, so high pitched that it woke some of the respectable elf-folk from their sleep. A certain small, dark haired elfling scurried into hiding. His brother came soon after, easily predicting the hiding spot. "Glofindel is really mad," he said, eyes very wide, "and I think you might get it this time."

"It was funny, though, you must admit," the first boy protested.

"Sure, but we gotta get out of here, quick!"

But before they could do that, a certain reborn elf warrior appeared, seeming to vent steam from his ears. His once beautifully golden hair was dyed a garish shade of purple.

"Get out of here!" Elladan screamed through giggles, and Elrohir scurried off with him.


	65. Justice

Elrond struggled to hide a smile, seeing Glorfindel growing ever more distraught over the state of his hair. "Your sons did this! Do you see my hair? It doesn't wash off, I've tried. Oh, what will people say when they see?" His voice rose into a shriek.

"Calm down, friend, let us find the culprits and they shall be brought to justice."

Soon enough, Elladan and Elrohir were dragged back to their home. "It wasn't me!" Elrohir protested. "It was his idea, and he even put the dye in Glorfindel's hair!"

Elladan put his hands up. "Guilty as charged."

"Where did you get the dye from?" Elrond asked with mild amusement.

"Urm, well," Elrohir mumbled, "I made it."

"You, you, children," Glorfindel sputtered, holding back curses.

"So, Elrohir," Elrond said over Glorfindel's complaints, "can you bring the dye for me?"

Elrohir came back with it, and Elrond took the jar. "You children, stand and face the wall." They obeyed. "Now, Glorfindel, you first?"

A smile grew on the golden/purple haired warrior's face. He cupped his hands together and scooped out some of the dye, throwing it all over the twins' hair as well as clothing. Some of it splattered on the walls and floor.

Some time later, Arwen looked in, laughing to see two old, wise elves grinning and throwing dye.

"Now, boys, I don't want to see a single stain on these clothes in two days. And you have a week to clean up everything else." Elrond and Glorfindel left the room together, sending Arwen scampering away.


	66. Stealing

"Are you sure you wish to work here instead of with your father in Ithilien, Bergil?" Aragorn looked seriously at the young soldier.

"Yes, Your Majesty," he began, but was cut off by angry shouts that were swiftly approaching. Bergil fell silent and nervously put a hand on the hilt of his sword. Seeing that Aragorn did no such thing but was much more important, he felt foolish and took his hand away.

"Someone do something about this little miscreant! He must stop stealing from my shop!" A red faced man in an apron that was covered in brown stains burst into the room, holding a scrap of a boy by the scruff of his neck.

"Ah, mister Calysto, what seems to be the problem?" If possible, he turned even redder.

"Your Majesty," he said, bowing very low and shoving the boy beside him into a similar pose. "This child stole a whole chicken from my store? I do not know where he has stored it, and he won't tell me. I cannot afford charity, I have a family to support!"

"Is that so? I will keep the boy here, and get back to you later. Thank you for bringing this to me." Bergil caught a hint of sarcasm in the King's voice and nothing more. He marveled at the self control that must have taken.

The shopkeeper muttered something and left.

"So, young Bergil, what do you suggest I do with this boy?"

"Me?" The boy looked as concerned as Bergil felt. "I don't really know about him, or the situation, so I cannot judge."

"What is your name, small thief?" Aragorn asked.

"I'm called Laron."

"And why did you steal the chicken?"

"We haven't had enough food since the war rationing began, and I couldn't help it." Dark eyes flashed defiantly. "Are you going to cut my hands off?"

Bergil coughed. "I don't think that it necessary. Perhaps if you began training as a soldier, you would get enough money to help your family and be fed yourself. It would keep you out of trouble too. My dad hoped it would do the same for me. And maybe someone could pay the butcher for his animal, so he doesn't complain."

"I don't really-" the boy mumbled, brushing hair from over his eyes.

"That seems like an adequate suggestion for the time. Run along and tell your family and come straight back here." There was a tone of command in Aragorn's voice that brooked no complaint. Laron ran off.

"Do you think he will come back?"

"I am sure he will."


	67. Feuds

"Your people and mine, the city square at dusk," Eldarion said angrily. "I'll show you I'm no coward, you lily-livered ninny!"

"Yeah, you think you can win at everything because you're royalty. You're nothing but a little baby. You have never been through any hardship."

"At least I don't steal things from hard-working shopkeepers who I live next door to!"

"You," the other boy hissed, "you don't understand anything." Eldarion stepped closer to him, and after a brief staring contest, slapped him hard across the face.

"What did you say?" But the other boy didn't reply. He looked deadly now, in a comfortable fighting stance. Eldarion rushed him and was pinned to the ground. "Get off me, Laron!"

"No!" The word exploded from his mouth. "Say you didn't mean any of it!"

"I won't," Eldarion returned petulantly. For that he got a fist to the face. The young prince began to howl, thrashing harder.

"I'll tell my Ada!" This he shrieked out, and Laron stopped abruptly.

"I knew you were one of those stupid princes who can't take a blow," Laron snarled, letting Eldarion up and disappearing into the nearby buildings.


	68. Hierarchy

Eldarion tried to escape upstairs unseen, but his father seemed to know what he was trying to do. "Eldarion, why do you have a black eye?"

"I- Ada, you should punish him! He punched me, and he's bigger than I am, and older!"

"Who? Why?" Aragorn asked, sure his son was hiding something.

"Laron punched me, and I'm not sure why. He just doesn't like me."

"Really?"

Eldarion was not used to lying, it had been taught out of him. "No, father. We were arguing, and he called me a baby, then I called him a thief and then he said I didn't understand anything. But it doesn't matter, he should have to apologize to me! I'm gonna be his king one day, he should listen to me! He's just some lowly homeless, poor kid!"

Aragorn's face went dead serious. "You cannot always expect to be able to do things unfairly just because you are royalty. I was no one when I was younger, just a wanderer, yet I am a king now. Even though few people will be like that, you should not judge by someone's birth status, but for the quality of their character."

"But Da," Eldarion said, less convinced than before, "he hit me and it hurt!"

"Some things hurt more than blows. Like the words you may have spoken in your anger." Aragorn called out to a passing servant. "Please summon Laron from the soldiers' training barracks. Thank you."

The servant obeyed, running off.

"Eldarion, when he comes, I expect that you apologize to him, okay?"

"Yessir," Eldarion mumbled.

Laron came running, panting slightly. He paled at the sight of Eldarion. "My Lord, I-"

"Wait," Aragorn said, looking down at his son. "This little one has something to say."

His lip trembled in frustration. "I'm sorry, Laron. I shouldn't have called you those names."

"It's okay, I don't mind. I shouldn't have let my temper out of control. I certainly shouldn't have hurt you. My life is devoted to protecting you and your family."

"So you don't hate me anymore?"

"Of course not. I like your spirit. You'll make a good king one day."

Eldarion smiled through his teared up eyes. "Really?"

"Of course."


	69. Falling

Eldarion smiled out at the beautiful day. It was bright and blue and slightly cloudy. It was a good day to practice swordplay. His tutor seemed to have similar thoughts.

"Your Majesty, I was thinking that we could practice some today," Master Crow said. He tossed Eldarion a practice sword, made of wood and heavy enough to make a good bruise.

The two began to spar right there on the wall. Master Crow was taller than Eldarion and deadly fast. It frustrated the prince to lose so many times, even though he had improved so much.

He made a wild jab, and the teacher easily blocked, countering with a tight slash. Eldarion leaped back to avoid it, and all of a sudden he was tumbling over and over. Automatically, his hand shot out and he caught a brick that stuck out.

Master Crow reached out to him, but was too far. "Wait here!" the man called, face ashy. "I'll get someone."

"D-don't leave me!" Eldarion called, but he was gone. And now that there was nothing to distract him, was he slipping?

"Hey, Eldarion," a calm voice called, "I'm going to try to get you now. Can you get a hand free to reach me?" It was Laron, who had shot up by at least a foot and a half during his training. Their hands barely met, and Laron managed to reach farther over the side, getting a good grip on Eldarion's hand.

Inch by painful inch, Eldarion ascended until he could tumble over the edge of the ramparts. As soon as he hit the ground, he sat down, legs wobbly. Laron sunk down next to him.

They looked over at each other, and Eldarion began to laugh, causing the older boy to laugh too. Master Crow watched, concerned, as they laughed hysterically for a few minutes. He was worrying about shock or brain damage or something. Well, he didn't know quite what, he was no healer.


	70. Oaths

"I appoint Laron Laufson as my Captain of the Guard, to protect and advise royal persons as needed, to give his life unquestioningly for such people, to live not for himself but for the good of the royal family. I swear to always allow him to do his job as described, to accept his advice and sword no matter what."

"And I swear, Your Majesty, to do everything you have said, to give my advice and sword no matter what." Laron unsheathed his sword and lay it at Eldarion's feet.

"Take back what is yours, so you may protect," Eldarion said, returning the sword.

The ritual done, Eldarion stood, looking around briefly and left. After a pause, Laron followed after him. "My King, are you okay?"

"I wish I had not had to do that. Not that you do not deserve it, but I do not like the circumstances that prompted it." The man kept walking. "I will retire to my chambers now."

"Yet I was told once to never let anyone meet the first waves of grief alone. I understand that you wish to be alone so that you can weep, but do not go yet." Laron watched nervously as Eldarion argued internally.

"Where do you wish to go?" Eldarion asked reluctantly, forcing himself to see the wisdom of the older man's advice.


	71. New race

Lúthien looked down tenderly at her son, Dior. He had his father's eyes, the same shade of pardo(a Spanish word for a color that is hard to describe), the same proud cheekbones. But he had her thick, dark hair and slim fingers.

It was strange to think that this child had blood of elves, men and even Maiar. What would his life span be? How would he mature?

Lúthien looked down tenderly at her son, Dior. In that single moment, all she felt was love.


	72. Metal

"What is the point of this thing?" Thranduil asked, lip curling delicately in disgust. Legolas watched in amusement as his father took the strange metal object and held it up to the light, shook it, poked it, pulled various ends and ended up still confused.

The thing was a flat sheet of metal on the bottom, but the top looked as if tiny rivulets of water had run through it while it was cooling.

"I believe that it is called art," Legolas volunteered, struggling to keep serious.

"I know what art is," Thranduil snapped self-righteously, "and this is most definitely not it."

"Well, it was made by Dwarves. Their concept of art is different, to be polite."

"Perhaps it is meant to be a plate? I wonder what would happen if you rolled something through the trails. Perhaps it is an entertainment device. Or a shelf. Or-"

Legolas excused himself very quietly, and smothered his laughter in the sleeve of his robes as he strode down the corridor.

Connecting the Dots

Sam lay quietly on his back on the edge of a field. He had begun to enjoy silence after coming home from the quest. It had taken most of his adventuring spirit away, leaving behind Familyhobbit Gamgee.

Still, sometimes, he wondered what it would be like to go among the stars. It was quite obviously impossible for a plain old hobbit, but a person could dream, right?

One thing he didn't understand was the constellations. How did anyone see pictures in the stars. There were so many of them. Besides, there weren't any lines, so how would there be pictures? Maybe the pictures were on the stars, and he just couldn't see them.

Poor old Sam, can't even see as far as everyone else.

Or maybe... He squinted up at the area that was supposed to hold the Huntsman. He squinted a little more, then tilted his head. There it was! It almost looked like a person, but with a lot of gaps. If he connected the stars a bit, it worked.

Well, the world never ran out of surprises!


	73. Waybread

Legolas woke from his reverie, feeling for a packet of waybread. His store of it seemed considerably lower. All around him, he could see others of the Fellowship having the same dilemma.

"Have you seen Merry and Pip?" Frodo asked. "I really am going to have to restrain their appetites. They ate at least a quarter of my store for the whole journey!"

Aragorn cast a quick look across the ground. "Ah ha, a trail!" And there was a conspicuous line of crumbs leading out of the clearing. "Perhaps they were afraid to get lost?"

The whole company save Gandalf set off at once to follow it. They found Merry and Pippin lying with their feet hanging in the river, eyes drowsy, smiles on their slack faces.

"Oh, do not punish them," Legolas said with a small smile, "for they appear to be so happy! Come, friend Aragorn, let us return them to camp."


	74. Crossing the line

"Elboron! Stop!" The toddler watched in horror as his father's entire shelf of records tumbled towards him. "Gotcha. Eru, child, be careful!"

Elboron looked up at his savior with wide eyes. "Leg'less, is 'Da gonna be mad at me?"

"Perhaps, dear one, I do not know. Just resist from pulling at shelves from now on, okay?"

Faramir walked in and his face went ash grey. "El, what have you done?" Admittedly, it looked very bad. Papers were skewed at awkward angles and some had come free of their delicate, handmade bindings. The shelf itself had an enormous crack down one side and, of course, was toppled over. Worst of all, a pot of ink had spilled on the whole mess, spreading out from under it.

"Now now, Faramir," Legolas said, holding the thoroughly scared boy tightly in his arms.

"Do you know how many years it took me to do all that? Do you have any idea? I started it back when Denethor still did things with me." Faramir picked a particularly old looking sheaf of papers off the ground. His jaw worked as he stared at it and tried to rub the creases from the yellowing pages.

Legolas put Elboron down slowly. "Run along," he murmured from the corner of his mouth, "bother your Naneth or the cook or someone."

Faramir looked up at Legolas, eyes alarmingly shiny. When he spoke, his voice was dull. "There's no point in trying to fix this, is there? I should just dispose of it."

"Of course not! It'll take a while, but if we both take a couple of hours each evening, I'm sure that this mess can be repaired. Come on, we can start now." Legolas sat cross legged on the floor and began to straighten the pages of one of the books. Faramir sat beside him after a moment, getting a stack of paper and quill to replace the many ink stained pages.


	75. Leaf

Gandalf looked about himself, at the forest that had once been so dark. Random beams of light shot their way down through the thick canopy overhead. The space seemed more open and welcoming, the trees growing straight, their bark healthy.

And all around, there were leaves of varying shades of red, orange and yellow. Prompted by the wind, leaves drifted to the ground, taking their own sweet time. They did not worry about falling to the ground, forgotten, but drifted in arcs until they slid along the ground.

It was the most beautiful thing Gandalf had seen for many a year.


	76. Painting

"Wait, Ada, don't move," Eldarion commanded as the King began to get up from the from the seat he had occupied for the whole day doing paperwork. Thoughts went through the King's head: thoughts of Arwen, of dinner and sleep. But he sat still for the extra five minutes it took the little prince to finish his ink drawing. He was rewarded by the messy, colored in stick figure with various features crossed out and drawn in again.

"Thank you, Eldarion."

Aragorn put his book on the agricultural development of the regions of Gondor down and rubbed tired eyes. He was looking forwards to a warm cup of tea and bed.

"Wait Ada, just a minute!" Eldarion stuck his tongue into his cheek and drew feverishly with the new invention, the pencil, on a piece of parchment. A half hour later, Eldarion was finished with the rough sketch of his father.

"Here, this is for you, Ada," he said with a small smile. Aragorn took it, surprised at the increase in talent from the last drawing.

"Thank you, Eldarion."

Aragorn rode slowly towards home, exhausted from a mostly inconclusive meeting with the nobles. It had been raining for most of the ride, but he had wanted to get home. Now his joints were aching, and all he wanted was a warm bath, then sleep.

"Ada, can you stand still for a bit?" Aragorn sighed, then obeyed, drawing on Dúnedain training to remain perfectly still and ignore the negative sensations.

Two hours later, he was still standing there. "Eldarion, are you almost done yet?"

"Just need to put on the finishing touches," Eldarion said, concentrating fiercely. He was done ten minutes later, holding up the watercolor of his rain and mud spattered father. "It's for you."

The piece was lifelike, even seeming to capture Aragorn's impatience and weariness.

"That is beautiful, thank you Eldarion."


	77. A book

Arwen crept up behind Elrohir and jumped onto his back. "Boo!"

"Hey Arwen," he said, not looking up from his book. He used one arm to set her on his lap, not putting book down.

"What's so interesting about books? They're boring. Come and play with me!"

"They're not boring, Arwen." The older elf took a book off the shelf. "This is a story about Lúthien. You like stories, right? Books are different forms of stories. But they are also sometimes about real world facts. Books give you power by giving you knowledge. They make for very good weapons."

"Yeah, I could hit you over the head with one," Arwen said happily.

"Not just that, but- whatever, yeah. You could hit someone with a book. Just be careful that you don't hurt the book, okay?"


	78. Anatomy

Merry began to sing, well, merrily, rocking the boat he was standing with emphatic hand motions.

"Be care-" with a splash, Merry tumbled into the river, "ful. Oh dear, what a pickle we've got ourselves into. At least good cousin Merry can swim. I think. But look, there's a strong current here. Merry!"

The hobbit flailed like a wet, annoyed rat, and as Pippin swept downriver, he saw Merry almost reach the bank. "Pip! Throw me the line!" But it was too late.

Pippin jabbed the long pole towards the floor of the bank, and it held him still for a moment before being wrenched from his grip.

Merry was pounding his way along the bank, drawing closer to Pippin and the boat, and he threw himself into the water, swimming strongly. It pushed him along until he collided with the boat.

"Ouch, pull me in, Pippin," Merry commanded, and he tumbled into the boat. "Ouch, my leg!"

"What's wrong?"

"I dunno, it feels like my legs are burning and being stabbed all at once."

"Meanwhile," said Pippin cheerily, "we're drifting down along the Brandywine! I wonder where we'll end up."

"Merry! When you do too much exercise without breathing, a chemical builds up in your blood and these things happen. That's why people breathe, okay? You could die from it." Frodo was in his preacherly mood, and his two cousins rolled their eyes discretely at each other.

"I've lived my whole life not knowing that, Frodo. Don't worry, I'll survive."


	79. Wounds

"I don't care for overpriced trinkets, no matter if they're dwarf made. What use do I have for such things? Kindly leave."

Doors began to slam in his face, people didn't care for well made objects of such specific purpose.

As he made his way towards the last place he was willing to try, the Shire, his head was hung low.

"Thorin, it's no fault of yours that they do not see value where it is plentiful," Balin said gently.

"Yes, but could I have stopped the kingdom from falling to such a depth? Could I have done something?"

"Perhaps, but you didn't and this is your lot. Look, young one, one day it will be okay. Not today, but one day. Before you get there, things will have to be really bad. From there, you can go no where but up, and things will improve. You will see it as good in comparison to all this, you will be content. That day will come, I promise. It will be okay."

Thorin clapped his companion on the shoulder. "You are a good one, has anyone every told you that?"

"Of course, Thorin, of course."


	80. Valinor

Legolas stood beside his shorter friend, the sun gold before them, casting long shadows backwards. He could hear the sea crashing upon the shore, see the glint of water in the distance.

"Friend Gimli, does not the sound of the sea call you to it? What lies beyond, do you think? What is in Valinor?"

"I know only this, Master Elf. The fair lady Galadriel is over that sea, and I would see her if I could." He was older now, beard turned grey, skin more loose over him than it had been.

"Yes, but the sea, oh to hear the gulls sing, the water in its might, to hear the music! Have you not heard the tales of the Teleri?"

"Singing, bah, what are all the songs in the world to one fair being? They have no life while she has more than I can ever comprehend."

Gimli drew breath to continue, but Legolas stopped him. "Do you hear that?" Distant hoofbeats sounded, coming towards the two. A bay gelding burst from the trees, lathered, eyes rolling. Its rider gave it a fond pat and dismounted.

"Legolas," Thranduil said, slightly breathless.

"Thranduil," Legolas replied, perfectly neutral. There was pleading in the Elvenking's eyes, and he amended his statement in pity. "Father." The word sounded stiff from disuse and discomfort.

"I did not want you to leave before I could tell you-"

"I will not remain here," Legolas said, interrupting, "no matter what you or Naneth says."

"I did not mean to keep you. Only, Legolas, my son, know that I love you. Do not judge too harshly of me if we never meet again. Please."

"I never- Ada, I love you. We may not always like each other, but I would die for you and you for me. That is how families work."

Thranduil smiled through his tears as he hugged his son. "I must return to the Greenwood by nightfall tomorrow, so I have to leave soon."

"Thank you for coming out all this way," Legolas said quietly, "even if your horse probably doesn't thank you."

"Horses, nasty creatures," Gimli added, making the two elves exchange small grins.


	81. Language Lesson

Rumil and Orophin came to Ithilien, trying their best to be unintrusive. They spoke little of the Common Tongue and a dialect of Sindarin different from that of the Greenwood.

The Captain of the Guard saw them and walked up. "Hello there."

"Greetings," Orophin said, the word awkward on his lips.

"Wait, wait," Beregond said, creasing his brow. "Le nathlam hí."

Rumil stared at him for a second, then nodded. "I am Rumil, my brother Orophin." His words were heavily accented. "It is pleasing to greet you."

"We normally say 'nice to meet you' instead."

"I apologize," Rumil said.

"My other brother was Haldir. He spoke well, for the three of us. Now he is gone, so I have learned some and Rumil as well. Westron is very common now, and Lórien is fading," Orophin explained.

"He talks better than I," Rumil admitted with a smile. "What would you call this?" He pointed to the blade at his side.

"I'm not too sure. It would generally be called an Elven blade. It has some properties of a double edged sword, some of a scimitar. What do you call it?"

"The word for type is lang, and its name is, how would you call it?"

"Perhaps Bloodrain?" Orophin suggested, "in honor of our brother. Agaros is its given name."

"Agar is blood, ros is rain, or something like that, right?" Beregond asked.

"Thand, yes," Rumil replied.

"I won't keep you any longer, but thank you for entertaining my questions."

"Novaer," Rumil said as he and his brother walked away.

"Farewell!" Orophin translated.


	82. Hatred

He played quietly upon the lute, caressing its strings with the lightest of touches. The leaves were in their first green, the palest and most fragile of shades, breathtakingly beautiful.

But the fairest thing in all these woods was gone, taken away by a mere Man, a mortal. How could the king give his daughter to such a lowly person? What right did he have to let her give her love to a dirty weakling?

It hurt to think of her, because that made him remember that she had loved the man over him.

He hated Men.


	83. Vanity

Pippin passed the looking glass and immediately backed up, not bothering to turn around. "Oh, Pip, you've gotten skinny! And are those muscles? It can't be! But you've been neglecting the hair, dear hobbit. Need a comb, you do. But you've got dozens! Just got to find them, eh?"

Merry came into the room. "Who are you talking to? Oh look at that! Is that me?" He was ensnared by the mirror. "Regular gentlemen we are! Hey, you have a speck of dirt on your nose, just there. Did you know?"

Frodo walked past, but hearing them, came in too. "What are you two talking about? All the elves here think you two are absurd. No, no! I'm not getting stuck in front of that mirror! I've got better things to do, I'll just show myself out."


	84. The image of perfection

Rosie peered into the oven, and beamed at the cake. It had turned out perfectly. She took it out to cool, and went to dust the many shelves.

At noon, she came back to frost it, thinking the wonderful thing very pretty. It was for Sam's election as Mayor and had to be just right. And oh, it was. She had to go organize the many cellars, had been putting it off, and now was a good time for it.

Rosie heard Sam calling greeting to neighbors as he came down the way and hastened her cleaning.

"Robin, come back here!" Toby wailed. There was a crash, sending Rosie running out to look. She found a confused Sam standing there with icing dripping down his face, little Toby sobbing and Robin shifting guiltily from foot to foot.

"Dear," Rosie breathed, "your speech is soon, you have to get changed and I guess you don't get cake afterwards. Robin! Stay. Sam, go get changed. Toby, it's okay, go play with one of your siblings."

Life was so stressful with so many children and a husband to worry about.


	85. Failed attempt

Erestor walked into the meeting late. "Excuse me for being late, my Lord," he said, shadows deep under his eyes.

"Ah, yes, Erestor, have you the report on climate changing in Northern Rivendell?"

"I do," the elf replied, producing a sheaf of papers and handing it to Elrond.

The Peredhel accepted it, reading through quickly. His brow furrowed as he read. "The bunnies of the western forest have been eating jellied grapes from clay soil when looking for mates? What is this? I believe that you need a break, Erestor. Consider yourself on vacation for the next fortnight."

"But-" Erestor began, but cut himself off when Glorfindel made chopping motions over his throat. "Thank you, my Lord, I will take some time off."


	86. From afar

It was painful to be separated from the fate of Middle earth. He loved it so, and yet could not "interfere". He had once ridden the wide green fields every day, gone hunting in the deep forests, walked with the beasts.

Ulmo was allowed to meddle, and Manwë with his Eagles.

If he could only watch, he would not do even that. What was the point?

"Oromë!" Vána said as she neared his thinking place. "All is now well in Middle earth! They have defeated Sauron, and we can now walk through the gardens, the glades, the valleys again."

"Then let us go, dear one, and we may rejoice in the beautiful, broken land."


	87. Destruction

There was something about war that left the humans broken. He had been on many a battlefield, had seen their faces after a long night in battle.

Why would they fight if it hurt them so much? It made absolutely no sense to the scavenging vulture. Yet he benefitted from the death, ate off it. It should be good for him. He had no shame in eating dead flesh. They were dead anyways. But the people left hated that.

They were always angry and sad and exhausted.

Yet there was this young boy who had seen him, patted him on the head and smiled sweetly before the battle. Where was he? The bird took to the air, circling around until he saw the boy. His eyes were closed, face peaceful. He could have been sleeping. But the bird knew what death looked and smelled like. And he was grieved.

"Shoo!" A toddler came up, waving chubby arms about. "Get away fwom my bwother!"


	88. Harbor

Little Rosie Cotton saw the butterfly. It was iridescent blue, just fluttering along lazily. Of course, she ran after it. It flew on and on, faster than the determined toddler on short legs, and she paused when it went into the forest. There were stories- but it's getting away!

So the little girl dashed off into the big woods. By the time midday came, she was exhausted, and the butterfly had vanished some time ago. Where was she? There was no path, she couldn't find her way out!

There was a rustling noise behind, what was it? A fox coming to eat her? Some other monster? She quaked as she stared into the brush, and out tumbled- Sam?

"Samwise Gamgee," she shrieked "you gave me a fright!"

"I'm sorry Rosie," he mumbled. "Hey, don't-". The little hobbit began to cry.

"We're lost, Sam, I have no idea where we are. Do you?"

"Well, no, but we can find a way. If we just keep going in the same direction, we'll be able to get out of here, and then we can find our way back to the Shire."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course," he said, "Mr. Bilbo told me so. Ah, come here, you." Sam hugged the younger hobbit tightly.

And Rosie? She just felt safe in the harbor of her friend's arms.

"Ready to go, Rosie?"

"Yup!"


	89. Spies

Legolas pressed his ear up against the door. Were they talking about him?

"You know Legolas wants to go to the sea, and I'm getting old. But he should not have to leave without anyone knowing."

"There isn't really anyone left, maybe Elladan and Elrohir. That's the problem with immortality," came Elboron's reply. The young man was surprisingly wise, even by Legolas' standards.

"How about their children, then? The children of everyone who was in the Fellowship?"

"I'll see what can be arranged."

There was a long silence, and the door was yanked open violently. Despite his attempts to stay upright, Legolas fell over and into the room. On the other side of the room, Bergerond's son Bergil was in the same position.

"I don't like secret meetings," the young Captain of Ithilien said sheepishly. "I like knowing secrets, though."

"It was supposed to be a surprise!" Gimli protested.

"There are no secrets when you whisper around elf ears," Legolas replied, wiggling said ears


	90. Flaunting

"You are a fool," Diamond of Long Cleeve told her husband, Peregrine Took. "Hobbits don't need shoes!"

Shoes wasn't a strong enough word for them. They were striped in flamboyant, bright colors and oversized, even for hobbit feet. "But I paid good coin for them, I can't not wear them! And besides, they're beautiful, aren't they. Make my feet look marvelous." He skipped out of the house to find Merry.

"Those shoes are ridiculous," Estella Bolger informed Pippin as she let him in.

"Yeah, wonderful, aren't they?" Pippin replied happily. Just then, Merry came in.

"By the Old Took's beard, what are those?" Merry jumped back, nose wrinkling, from the colored monstrosities masquerading as footwear.

"They're my new shoes, absolutely fabulous and perfect for gaining attention, as I've found."

The next day, when Merry walked to Pippin's house for tea, he sported a striped hat with bells on the ends.

"Not you too!" Diamond groaned. "Next you know, the whole town will be wearing absurd clothing."


	91. Far fetched

"-And Da killed a Troll single handedly, and Frodo was whacked by a Troll real hard, but he only had a teeny bruise, and Legless could practically fly and shoot something by hearing it, and there was this dude who became king even though he was hiding it the whole time and he led a bunch of ghosts, and Gandalf could control fire perfectly, he was so amazing, and Merry and Pippin got super tall after drinking tree drink, and- well, I don't remember who else. Wait! No, there was that red haired short man who could kill hundreds of Orcs by burping at them and the really royal man who took zillions of arrows before dying. And they all sort of went east, and Frodo got his finger bit off, and then the world was saved! Right? Which one were you?" Little Rosie Gardner grinned up at the Man, who had come to visit Frodo and been swarmed by Sam's children.

"How did you know I was one of them?"

"Because Da and Uncle Frodo look at you guys a certain way, like you're all best friends."

"In that case, I'm the one who you thought was the best," the Man replied, grey eyes twinkling.


	92. Parlay

There was a great amount of cheering, jeering and plain old screaming. "The kids are racing rabbits?" Legolas asked incredulously.

"I guess so," Gimli replied, equally perplexed.

"Hey, let's bet, you and I, on the rabbits. You choose one, I choose one, and in each race, which ever one is faster wins. Each win is a drink on the loser and if you lose, your wins get transferred to me. Got it?"

"Get ready to buy a lot of drinks," Gimli said with a grin.

Five hours later, he was watching Legolas down several tankards of ale, fuming quietly. "Come, dwarf, I will give you a drink as charity."

"I take no charity, elf," Gimli replied stoutly.

"As you wish." Legolas laughed merrily. "Yet it is said that the one who refuses gifts for pride is a fool."

Gimli growled. "Give me one, then." He downed it and decided to order another for himself, looking forward to being thoroughly drunk before the dawn.

 **Apparently parlay is a kind of gambling?**


	93. Deadline

Why was it so glorified, being a leader? You had to cater to everyone's whims or watch out for all the pretenders trying to get their way. And then there was all the paperwork. Tons to read and know by a certain date, tons to write and understand by a certain date, tons to prepare in general.

Samwise was exhausted. He flopped down on his bed and immediately was covered in many chattering children.

Oh yeah, and there were the kids to deal with. What fun.

"Da, you said you'd look at my picture by Friday! Have you looked yet?"

"Da, you said you'd go shopping with me some time this week!"

"Da, you said you'd explore the woods with me!"

"Did I?" he asked, slightly faint.

"Yes!" they all screeched.

"Well that can wait until tomorrow, okay? It's bedtime for all you little ones."

"But Da," the eldest protested, "this is an injustice, sleeping when they do. I'm older, I should get to stay up later."

Boy oh boy, what fun.


	94. Fellow sufferer

Sam sat sadly on the edge of the pier a year after Frodo's departure. He missed having someone to garden for, missed the old days when he was just plain old Samwise who served Frodo Baggins.

He missed Frodo, plain and simple. Only a single tear escaped his eye before he clamped them shut and rubbed hard for good measure.

A tall, robed figure came and sat beside him. "Hello, Samwise," Arwen said quietly.

"Oh, hello, Yer Majesty," he said, fumbling with his words.

"Do you miss Frodo often?" Arwen asked, sparing him the awkwardness. She paused, then spoke again. "Is it wrong for me to wish that my father would come back even though I know he's happier there?"

"I don't think so, you're just missing knowing that he could be reached, or seen, or talked with. I feel the same about Master Frodo. He was having a bad time here, and he'll find rest in the West. Still, I wish he wasn't there sometimes."

The two sat quietly, watching the sun set in fiery opposition to the night before disappearing, thinking of lost loved ones.


	95. The flag of surrender

It had been a long time since they had all met: Aragorn, Legolas, Gimli, Sam, Merry and Pippin. The ones who were still left. Yet they did meet, once.

"I give up!" Gimli cried as he was surprised by the rest of them while he and Legolas stayed with Aragorn. "It will never be over, will it? As much as we want to forget some of it, the rest brought some good which we will never lose."

"Wise words," Legolas replied.

"I wish that it could be eternal, the friendships we have earned, that in death we will all meet again in Mandos' halls. Yet you are immortal, and besides, there are a multitude of souls there."

"So you do believe in Mandos?"

"We have a similar entity, and I believe they are the same. I shall call him by the name you have known while with you."

"Hey there!" Merry called up to them, "you look as if you speak words too serious for this fair day!"

 **I seem to be missing a couple chapters, but I'm too lazy to check which ones. So this is farewell :-)**


	96. The flag of surrender v2

It was not supposed to be a good thing, this white flag that he held in his hands. It meant admitting you had lost, meant that you were at the mercy of the people that had been slaughtering you for months. It was an agony to even consider putting it up, telling his men he had led them astray.

Nonetheless, his enemies were merciful and they would not impose to severe a punishment.

Elladan set the tiny white flag on the mound in front of his legion of elven soldiers. "You cheated that time Arwen came in and distracted me. That's the only reason you won."

Elrohir smiled benevolently down upon his brother. He smirked in that smug older brother way, even though he was only older by 47 seconds. He was older, after all, and the older one always got to win.

 **I made a second version of the last chapter because it didn't feel final enough to me. Or maybe too final, but not fitting the prompt? Anyways, I'm actually done with this story now, after a tiny little rabbit has been satisfied.**


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